Aftermath
by W.H. Woolhat
Summary: Two years after Colors of Grief. In the aftermath of Voldemort's fall, everyone has their demons to wrestle with. At Remus's request, Aidan returns to help Harry through his problems, but Harry is not about to make things easy.
1. Prologue: The End

**Author's Note:** I wasn't going to do it. I thought about it a couple of times, decided against it...and came back to it. I'm not sure it'll ever reach completion, but knowing me, since I started, I'll have to finish. XD

This is somewhat of a sequel to "Colors of Grief", focusing on the aftermath of the final battle with Voldemort and Harry's (and the Order's) recovery from it. It's not necessarily what I imagine happening, but I'm trying to write it as something that _could_ happen, given the canon and the events of "Colors of Grief".

Please let me know what you think! Chapter 1 will be up soon.

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**Prologue – The End**

Aidan had only been home from university for a couple of weeks when the letter came.

It came, as much of his mail did these days, by owl. But this owl was unfamiliar. It was bigger and looked more official than the regular service bird that brought Aidan the paper every morning. The smart, curt way it tapped on the window and the way it held itself while Aidan opened the letter gave Aidan the impression of urgency. The hair on the back of his neck prickled as he unfolded the letter and began to read.

Aidan was not a wizard in the strictest sense of the word. He lived with Muggles, dressed like a Muggle, and, up until a couple of years ago, had no idea that magic really existed.

He'd known he was adopted, of course. Maria and Joe Winterton, the people he knew as Mom and Dad, had been open with that information, but neither they nor Aidan had known the true nature of Aidan's biological parents until Aidan had gone to spend the summer with his biological father two years ago.

His name was Remus Lupin, and he _was _a wizard. He was also a werewolf, but when you got right down to it, he was a kind, sensitive, well-mannered man, and Aidan was proud to have him as a father.

But Aidan's most interesting connection to the wizarding world was through his mother. Aidan had never met her, but he knew from what Remus said about her that she was also kinds and sensitive, as well as intelligent and resourceful. Her name had been Lily Evans at the time Aidan was born, but a few years later, she married, became Lily Potter, and had a son called Harry.

The rest was wizarding world history. Over the past two years, Aidan had learned all too well what having such fame did to Harry's life. It wasn't the celebrity, but rather the responsibility that weighed on Aidan's half-brother as time went on. Everyone knew that, sooner or later, the Boy Who Lived was going to have to stand up against the greatest threat to wizard kind, and failure wouldn't be an option.

Aidan, too, had known this, and had hoped against hope that the time of confrontation was somewhere in far in the future. The letter in front of him, however, confirmed many of the fears that had been lurking in the back of his mind.

The inevitable had happened, and with it, consequences.

_Aidan,_

_It is difficult to sit down and write this after all that's happened. My head is still spinning and my heart is heavy with the bleak news that continues to pour in._

_It's happened. The End, the one thing that every good-hearted witch and wizard has been hoping for ever since Harry's first encounter with Voldemort over sixteen years ago. The Final Battle—at least, the part that everyone will remember—is over. Voldemort is dead, as are a great deal of his followers. And, for much of the wizarding world, that's enough._

_But for those of us who were in the fray…son, I don't know where to start. So many people died or have disappeared, people that I've worked with for years, people I knew in school…_

_I'm not sure how much of this will mean anything to you, but I want to try to give you some idea so that you can understand the magnitude of what's happened._

_Minerva McGonagall survived, as did Tonks and Alastor Moody, though they're all still recovering in St. Mungo's. That's where I'm writing from; I'm all right, but I'll also need a little time to recover. Several others, who suffered only minor injuries, have been treated and released._

_Draco Malfoy, who I'm sure you've heard Harry complain about numerous times, switched sides as the last minute, a move which nearly cost him his life. Nobody has been able to get a word out of him yet, but we're all wondering what made him change his mind._

_Severus Snape is dead. That story…I still don't believe what happened. Perhaps Harry will tell you at some point; I'm not sure I have the energy to write it out right now._

_The worst blow for Harry, though, was the loss of Ron. The poor kid was in way over his head before the battle ever started, and once he got into the fray, there was no saving him. His family is devastated, as are Harry and Hermione. Nobody really wants to talk about it._

_The remains of forces on both sides are scattered. While the rest of the wizarding world celebrates, those of us in St. Mungo's are waiting for news. Mostly, all we're getting is news of more death, missing people turning up lifeless after pointless post-battle skirmishes. And all we can do is keep waiting._

_Aidan, the reason I'm writing to you is to ask you to come to St. Mungo's. We need you, and what you can do. And, most of all, Harry needs you. He's physically battered, emotionally exhausted, and magically drained, and none of us are in any position to offer him the comfort he needs._

_I've drawn you a map, along with instructions on how to enter St. Mungo's. Tell the attending nurse who you are; she'll bring you to Harry's room._

_Please come as soon as you can. I'm sorry to burden you with all this, but if ever there was a time when your talents were needed, it's now._

_Love,_

_Remus_

Aidan stared at the letter for a long time after he read it, absently toying with his auburn ponytail. He felt utterly stunned, as if someone had hit him very hard in the stomach. Suddenly, the plans he'd had for his summer at home weren't important at all.

Twenty minutes later, he was out the door with his backpack and car keys. He had sent a return note to Remus to let Remus know he was on his way, and had jotted a quick note to his parents. This he left on the kitchen table, one corner tucked under Joe Winterton's favorite coffee mug to make sure it got their attention.

_Mom & Dad –_ (it read)

_I know it's last-minute, but I had to go see Harry. I'm not sure how long I'll be gone. I'll send you a note when I know. And yes, it will come by owl, so please watch for one._

_I'll be home as soon as I can._

— _Aidan_


	2. Aris McPhreeson Ward for Special Cases

**Author's Note: **Excuse any inaccuracies in the layout/staffing of St. Mungo's. I looked up what I could, and tweaked what I needed to tweak to make it work for the story. Also, I picture Neville as blonde for some reason.

Oh, and I have no idea what's up with the bit with Arthur Weasley. It just happened. XD

Please review if you read; feedback is love. 

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**  
Chapter 1 – The Aris McPhreeson Ward for Special Cases**

St. Mungo's hospital was more crowded than it had ever been before. It was too bright, too loud, and, in some cases, too smelly. Aidan had a difficult time finding the correct nurse's station, and when he tried to ask directions, he was accosted by a vapid, smiling man who was freely offering autographed pictures of himself to anyone who walked by.

Finally, a plump witch in a nurse's uniform appeared out of another corridor. Aidan appealed to her for directions to the floor Harry was on.

"Oh honey, nobody up there can have any visitors," the nurse replied gravely.

"Look, my father is up there, too. He asked me to come." Aidan's usually infinite patience was wearing thin under the constant stream of light and noise.

"Well, dear, I'm afraid I can't let you see anybody without some kind of proof," the nurse said. She was starting to eye Aidan's Muggle clothing suspiciously.

Gritting his teeth, Aidan pulled Remus's letter out of the front pocket of his denim jacket and thrust it at the nurse.

"My name is Aidan Winterton," he said as she stared at Remus's signature and the map that he had drawn. "My father is Remus Lupin, Harry Potter is my half-brother, now would you _please _show me what rooms they're in?"

"My word, did you say Harry Potter?" asked the smiling man. He was still stranding nearby and had apparently heard the whole conversation.

"Very famous chap," he went on. "Almost as famous as I was, I think. Here, take him a photo. It's sure to cheer him up."

"Now, Mr. Lockhart, don't bother the visitors," the plump nurse said in a tone usually reserved for idiots and small children. "How did you get down here, anyway? Come on, back to your ward."

She turned to Aidan as Lockhart was gathering his stack of photos. "You want the fourth floor. The lift is at the end of this hall; nurse's station is to your right when you get up there."

Aidan breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you."

The elevator was empty and blissfully quiet. Aidan leaned against one wall and closed his eyes as it started upward.

He hadn't expected the colors to be so bad. The instant he had walked into the hospital, everywhere he looked was a mass of conflicting hues: painful reds, the deep blues of despair, fluffy pink insanity, and a sort of muddled greenish brown that seemed to indicate stress and overwork. He'd never seen anything half so vivid at home. It seemed that being in a magical environment made the colors clearer.

Technically, Aidan was a Squib, and he had spent most of his life trying to ignore the fact that he often saw colors that corresponded to people's emotions and personalities. There was, however, a logical explanation for it. Some research Remus had done turned up the often-ignored fact that some Squibs possessed special powers, types of wandless magic that set them apart from both Muggles and normal wizards. Aidan, it turned out, was a type of Healer. His ability to see people's emotions allowed him to react more appropriately and with less haste than he might otherwise, and his naturally calm nature put people at ease. This, he was sure, was the main reason that Remus had wanted him to come to St. Mungo's.

The elevator stopped and Aidan got out, heading straight for the nurse's station. He was intercepted by an imposing black wizard who was wearing a hospital gown under his robes.

"Whoa, kid, who let you up here?" he inquired, holding out a large hand to halt Aidan's progress. Aidan looked up at the man. He had met several witches and wizards over the past two years, and he was sure he'd seen this face before.

"You're Shacklebolt, aren't you?" he said at last. The wizard's eyebrows drew together, and Aidan quickly added, "I'm Aidan Winterton. I think we met over last year's Christmas holidays."

Shacklebolt's eyes showed a glimmer of recognition. "Of course. You're Harry's brother."

"That's right, and I'm here to see him. What room is he in?"

"Listen kid, this isn't a good time—"

"I'm not a kid," Aidan interrupted, hoisting his backpack impatiently. "And I'm here _because_ it's a bad time and _I want to see my brother_." He pushed past Shacklebolt and leaned over the counter of the nurse's station.

"Excuse me," he said to the very small witch who was sitting there. "I'm here to see Harry Potter. Nobody seems to want to tell me where he is, but could you at least tell me where I can find Remus Lupin?"

The small witch blinked. "And who—"

"Remus is my father," Aidan interjected, pulling the letter out again. The small witch inspected the envelope, ran her wand over Remus's signature on the letter, watched it for a moment, and then nodded.

"I'm afraid I can't let you see Mr. Potter right now, but Mr. Lupin is in ward 4F," she said, pointing down the hall to her right. "Down there, third door on the left."

"Thank you," Aidan nodded as he tucked the letter back into his pocket. He could feel Shacklebolt watching him as he headed down the hall.

The plaque on the door to ward 4F read, "4F—Aris McPhreeson Ward for Special Cases". A handwritten note declaring, "Authorized Personnel Only," had been taped underneath. Aidan looked at it for a moment, shrugged, and went in.

The door opened into a small area with a hallway running off to the left. Directly in front of Aidan was a set of double doors, one of which was propped half-open with a chair. The sound of hushed voices filtered out from the room beyond.

Aidan slipped quietly around the half-open door into a room that bore a striking resemblance to a Muggle emergency room. Rows of beds separated by curtains ran the length of both walls, and a set of doors at the other end of the room faced what was presumably another nurse's station.

There was one major difference between the ward and an emergency room: the ward was very quiet. There were no monitors or equipment like there would have been in a Muggle hospital, and the stress-filled bustle of the rest of St. Mungo's seemed very far away.

_As well it should be,_ Aidan thought. _Everyone in here has been through hell._

The person closest to the door looked up as Aidan stepped into the room and swung his backpack off. It turned out to be Remus. He was sitting by one of the beds, talking to Tonks, who, aside from the bizarre green color of her hair, looked no worse for the wear. He stood up as soon as he caught sight of Aidan, and Aidan saw that his left arm was in some sort of sling.

"It seems like I just got your owl," Remus said after they had exchanged quiet hellos.

"Yeah, well, I didn't exactly drive slowly on the way here," Aidan admitted with half a smile. "How are you holding up?"

Remus gestured to indicate the sling. "Other than this, I'm doing all right. There are a lot of people worse off than I am."

From the dim cloud of red he saw near Remus's ear, Aidan could tell that Remus was downplaying his pain, but now wasn't the time to argue.

"I tried to get in to see Harry," he said, "but, obviously, that didn't work. What happened to telling the attending nurse who I am and getting shown to his room?"

"That's all because of this morning," Remus sighed. "Everyone's been trying to get at Harry: admirers, people from the Ministry, the press…"

"Two reporters who refused to leave had to be hexed and carried out of the building," Tonks piped up.

"Yes, it's been crazy," Remus shook his head. "They've been trying to tighten security and keep the ward quiet, but it's difficult with how busy it is here. Plus, with everything that's going on, there's bound to be some paranoia."

"Speaking of paranoia, is Kingsley still outside, terrorizing people?" asked a voice from the next bed.

"Yes," Aidan was the one to reply. "Though the fact that he's not wearing pants rather spoils the effect."

The curtain to the next bed twitched aside, revealing the pale, drawn face of Minerva McGonagall. She looked much older than the last time Aidan had seen her, but he figured that was to be expected.

"Ah, Aidan," McGonagall managed a small, tired smile. "Remus said he'd written you. I'm glad you could come."

"I got here as fast as I could," Aidan said. "Who else is here?"

McGonagall glanced at Remus, and Aidan caught a brief flash of color: blue and red twined together, not mixing. That meant sadness, pain, and possibly anger. Whatever answer he was about to get wasn't going to be pleasant.

He had been vaguely aware of the existence of the Order of the Phoenix and its activities for a while, but he hadn't properly learned about it until six months ago when McGonagall had decided that he needed to know exactly what Harry was up against. It had been comforting to know that there was a network of witches and wizards fighting the good fight, as it were, but Aidan hadn't been able to help thinking that it was an awfully small network. Now, a sick feeling spread outward from his stomach as Remus, McGonagall, and Tonks told him what had happened to that network as a result of the final battle.

Deadalus Diggle and Elphias Doge were killed while trying to protect one of the last strongholds that the Order had established in Diagon Alley before the start of the battle. Aberforth Dumbeldore and Mundungus Fletcher had fled early on in the fight, and there was a good chance that they had both been hiding in the Hog's Head when Death Eaters set fire to that part of Hogsmede. Aidan had never met either of them, but he got the impression from McGonagall's tone that they hadn't been particularly reliable to begin with.

Kingsley Shacklebolt had survived, of course. Apparently the Death Eaters he had been holding off were young and inexperienced. He was able to overcome them quickly, though he had caught the brunt of some sort of embarrassing hex straight in the buttocks, which explained his current bizarre attire. He had planted himself by the nurse's station that morning in the hopes that there would be some news from the rescue parties that were scouring Hogsmede and Diagon Alley for survivors.

Hesita Jones and Rubeus Hagrid were among those in the rescue parties. They, along with several Hogwarts professors, had banded together after the battle in the hopes of finding some of the people who had gone missing. The prospects of their search were grim; much of Diagon Alley and at least half of Hogsmede had been reduced to rubble and ashes, and nobody was sure how many Death Eaters were still at large.

There had been enough of a defense to keep the Death Eaters from completely overrunning either place, though. Arthur, Bill, and Charlie Weasley had headed up the defense of Hogsmede, and Fred and George Weasley had volunteered to help defend Diagon Alley. Mad-Eye Moody had popped between both places, dispensing his usual paranoid battle advice and getting into the fray whenever someone needed help. Consequentially, he'd ended up with twice the injuries of anyone else, and had only just been allowed out of bed that morning.

Remus, Tonks, and McGonagall had been part of a large group defending Hogwarts. They didn't seem to want to talk about what had happened, and Aidan didn't press them. He wasn't at all surprised when McGonagall's voice stuttered to a halt and she pulled a tartan handkerchief from her sleeve.

"We're pretty sure the nurses moved Harry to another room after that incident with the reporters," Remus was the one to continue as McGonagall blew her nose. "Moody's been guarding him since this morning, and it would be just like him not to let us know what's going on."

"The man has two broken legs, more hex damage than the walls of a dueling arena, and he's on so many potions it's a wonder he's still upright," Tonks said, rolling her eyes. "But he insisted that he be the one to guard Harry."

"The nurses nearly had a fit when he demanded that they mix his potions where he could watch," Remus added. "Then he wanted the lot mixed together so he could have everything in that hip flask of his."

Aidan whistled between his teeth. "Talk about paranoia."

"That's Moody," Tonks affirmed. As she was speaking, the doors at the other end of the ward opened and a nurse wheeled a cot in. On the cot was Arthur Weasley, looking pale and very tired. Most of his upper torso was freshly bandaged. Molly Weasley was walking beside the cot, fussing over Arthur and only half-listening to what the nurse was saying.

"What exactly happened to him in Hogsmede?" Aidan asked Remus quietly.

"Mild hexing, burns, and a punctured lung," Remus murmured the reply. "According to Charlie, they were fighting off a group of Death Eaters near Dervish and Banges after it got set on fire, and a wall collapsed. Arthur pushed Charlie out of the way and ended up half-buried in hot timbers."

"And Molly's out of her mind with worry," Aidan said. Even without the wispy cloud of gray that was surrounding Molly Weasley, he would have been able to tell.

Remus nodded. "She's worried about Harry, too."

"We all are," McGonagall put in, tucking her handkerchief back into her sleeve.

"Well, it seems kind of silly for us to just sit around, waiting for someone tell us where he is," Aidan remarked.

"There's not much else we can do," Remus sighed. "We might have had some chance of finding out if Moody hadn't gotten involved, but now? There's no way."

"Terrific," Aidan shook his head. "Is there anything else I can do while I'm here?"

"You might want to have a look at Arthur once the nurse is gone," McGonagall replied quietly, watching as Molly helped the nurse levitate Arthur from the cot to a bed. "They have him on potions for the pain, but he still seems to be suffering."

Aidan nodded, though he was hesitant. He had done some minor healing for the Order before, but he still wasn't entirely comfortable exercising the power. Though he knew how to use it, he didn't entirely understand how it worked, and this often made him feel like he was missing an essential part of the equation. Still, if there was something he could do to help, he was inclined to at least try. He waited until the nurse had gone, and then approached Arthur's bed.

Molly enfolded him in a tight hug as soon as she caught sight of him.

"Aidan, dear, I'm so glad you could come!" she exclaimed tearfully. Aidan had long ago gotten used to her treating him like another son.

"How are you doing, Mrs. Weasley?" he asked softly, returning the hug.

"Oh, I'm hanging in there," Molly let Aidan go and gave him a watery smile. "And I've told you a thousand times that you can call me Molly."

"Right," Aidan laughed a little. "Listen, do you mind if I have a word with Arthur? If he's up to it, that is."

Molly glanced over at Arthur and raised her eyebrows. He nodded, but Molly seemed hesitant.

"Well…I suppose so. But don't tire him out, dear; he's still recovering."

"I won't," Aidan promised. He steered Molly gently away from the bed and pulled the curtain shut around it.

Oddly enough, Aidan and Arthur had struck up a decent friendship over the past two years. Arthur's interest in Muggle things and Muggle life had led him to ask so many questions that the two ended up talking for hours whenever their paths crossed during one of Aidan's visits to Harry. As a result, Aidan felt more at ease with Arthur than with Molly. Where Molly radiated concern, Arthur radiated polite interest. Now, though, his usually smiling face was pale, haggard, and etched with weariness.

"How are you feeling, Arthur?" Aidan asked, although he already knew the answer. The red cloud that represented Arthur's pain nearly filled the space inside the curtains. Aidan had to resist the urge to wave it away.

"I'm fine," Arthur's breath wheezed as he spoke.

Aidan smiled wryly. "You are not."

"Could be worse," Arthur replied.

"True, but you could be a whole lot better," Aidan said. "What'd they do to fix you up? The usual charm-and-potion bit?"

Arthur nodded. "Hex reversals. Burn-healing charms. A potion and a spell for the lung." He spoke slowly, as if each word took enormous effort.

"Well, obviously something didn't work, or is taking its sweet time," Aidan remarked. He reached for Arthur's hand. "Do you mind?"

Arthur shook his head. "Go ahead."

Aidan took Arthur's hand and shut his eyes. It had been several months since he'd last done this, but as soon as he mentally distanced himself from his surroundings, the process came flooding back.

It was simple, really. Shut your eyes, ignore all outside distractions, and focus on the person you wanted to heal. The actual healing came later; first, you had to figure out what was wrong.

At first, there was nothing unusual; just the echoes of burns that had already healed, and something purple that appeared to be the hex reversal charms. Aidan was no expert, but magic did have a certain feelings and colors to it, just like emotions and physical injury.

He let his mind drift farther. Blood vessels, muscle tissue, nerves, and bones, some still healing but most intact…so where—

He came up against the problem so abruptly that he gasped as he opened his eyes. Arthur game him a puzzled, inquisitive look, and Aidan caught a flash of deep red fear.

"I, er…excuse me for a minute," he managed, letting go of Arthur's hand. He slipped between the curtains and out the doors at the far end of the ward as quickly as he could. There was no way he would be able to heal this one himself. He didn't have the experience.

The young witch sitting at the station outside the doors was the one who had wheeled Arthur's cot into the ward. She was dictating something to a quill that propelled itself across the pages of a ledger as she spoke. She looked up when Aidan approached. The quill quivered for a moment when she stopped dictating, then fell over.

"Can I help you?" the young witch asked.

"Yes," Aidan replied as levelly as he could. He was still feeling a little shaken. "Whoever treated Arthur Weasley needs to see him again immediately."

The young witch's brow furrowed. "Excuse me?"

"Arthur Weasley. You just brought him back to the ward ten minutes ago," Aidan said, starting to feel exasperated. "He needs help."

"Mr. Weasley just had several tests done," the young witch replied. She brushed the fallen quill aside and thumbed through the ledger. "It says here that everything checked out."

Aidan sighed. "Just get somebody to have a look at him, all right? This _is_ a hospital; you're supposed to do that sort of thing."

The nurse gave him a suspicious look. "I don't know what business it is of yours, sir, but our Healers are extremely busy—"

Aidan could almost feel the twang as his patience snapped. But instead of yelling, he took a deep breath and spoke as calmly as possible. Yelling wouldn't get him anywhere.

"I know what's going on here. I know you're dealing with the backlash of a battle and everyone's on edge. But there is a man in that ward with a hole in his lung that isn't healing properly, and if someone doesn't do something about it, he's going to die."

The young witch looked taken aback. "How did you—"

"Does that even matter?" Aidan interrupted. "If I'm wrong, the worst that will happen is someone will waste ten minutes finding out. But if I'm right, which I'm sure I am, and nobody checks, it could cost a man his life."

"All right, all right, no need to be like that," the nurse muttered. She produced a speaking tube from somewhere behind the desk, tapped it with her wand, and spoke into it. "Annie? Hilda. We need a Healer in the McPhreeson ward right away…"

Satisfied, Aidan straightened his jacket and went back into the ward.

Hermione was there with a tall, sandy-haired boy who seemed extremely uncomfortable with his height. Part of this was probably due to the fact that the lower part of his left leg was bandaged, and he was leaning heavily on a crutch. He stood by awkwardly while Hermione talked to Molly Weasley.

Aidan waited for a lull in the conversation, but Hermione caught sight of him before he could say anything. Much to his surprise, she rushed forward and flung her arms around his neck.

"Oh Aidan!" she exclaimed, and Aidan realized that she had been crying. He patter her on the back as comfortingly as he could, though doing so felt strange. He was used to seeing Hermione either upbeat or serious, and always level-headed. Hermione in tears and on the verge of hysteria was something he never would have imagined.

Then it hit him. He remembered Harry saying something about Hermione and Ron having some sort of relationship, which almost certainly meant a lot more than either of them showed. The idea of Hermione in love was also a strange one, but, of course, entirely possible. There was no point in bringing that up, though. Aidan gently disentangled himself from the embrace.

"Good to see you, too, Hermione," he said with a slight smile. Hermione sniffled and wiped her eyes on her sleeve. Her hand was bandaged, but she seemed otherwise all right.

"I'm sorry," she apologized. "I didn't expect to…I mean, I just thought I'd come see how everyone was doing. I was here last night, but they let me go home…sorry, do you know Neville?" She indicated the sandy-haired boy, who now looked confused as well as uncomfortable.

Aidan didn't, though he had heard the name before. He introduced himself, and Neville shook his hand awkwardly.

"We were in one of the minor wards on this floor," Hermione explained. "Neville's still there, technically…"

"I'll probably be sent home soon," Neville added, his tone glum.

"I would have stayed, but they needed the bed space," Hermione said, patting his arm. "Plus, my parents were having trouble getting in to see me, what with all the confusion."

"Speaking of parents, I'd better send mine a note before they blow a gasket," Aidan said.

"Good luck getting an owl," Hermione sighed. "They were all in use last night."

"And considering how busy this place is, they probably still are," Aidan shrugged. "Oh well, There are more important things right now." That said, he went over to have a quiet word with Molly Weasley and let her know that there was a Healer on the way to see Arthur.

The next hour or so passed slowly. Aidan spent some time talking with Hermione and Neville about anything but the battle. They were very frustrated that even they hadn't been allowed to see Harry yet. The best they'd been able to do was send a message down with a nurse to let Harry know they were okay.

Kingsley appeared in the ward with more somber news. One of the rescue parties had reported back. Mundungus Fletcher and Aberforth Dumbledore were indeed dead, and several Ministry officials were still missing.

"They did find Fudge, though," Kingsley said, rolling his eyes. "The fool was hiding out in the back of Ollivander's. Apparently, since it was still standing, he figured he was safe there. He had no idea the fighting had stopped."

"Are Fred and George all right?" Molly asked anxiously.

Kingsley nodded. "They're helping to clean up in Diagon Alley."

This didn't seem very reassuring to Molly. It was obvious that she would feel much better if her entire family was in one place.

She didn't have long to worry about this, however, because the Healer finally showed up to see Arthur a few minutes later. He did a short magical examination, got a very strange look on his face, and immediately went and had a row with the nurse at the station behind the ward. Aidan could hear him demanding to know who had done Arthur's tests, who had recorded the results, and why no one had doubled-checked anything. The nurse got flustered and called in the Healer who had done Arthur's tests. When he arrived, there was further shouting. After several minutes of this, Arthur's Healer came back into the ward, smoothing his robes and endeavoring to look as if he'd been perfectly calm all along.

"I'll see to your husband directly," he told Molly as he headed for Arthur's bed and pulled the curtains shut around it.

"Well, that was a lot of fuss," Molly commented, watching the closed curtains anxiously.

"Took them long enough," Aidan sighed. "I know everyone is under pressure, but this is almost as bad as Muggle medicine…"

"Well, thank you for bringing it to their attention, dear," Molly said, patting Aidan's shoulder.

Aidan smiled wryly. "Just call me Hawkeye Pierce."

Hermione laughed, and both Molly and Neville gave her puzzled looks.

"What? I knew what he meant," she said, a little defensively.

There was a sudden commotion outside the ward and the doors Aidan had originally come in where pushed open. An extremely battered-looking man entered, balancing himself on two crutches. Aidan had only met him once, but immediately recognized him as Mad-Eye Moody. It was hard to forget someone who had an eye that occasionally flipped halfway around in the socket to watch what was going on behind him.

"Didn't expect to see you back here so soon, Alastor," Remus remarked as Moody ambled over to an unoccupied bed.

"Yeh, well, the bloody nurses keep sayin' I won't recover if I don't get some rest," Moody replied as he eased himself into bed. "Wanted to wheel me down here, too. Told 'em where they could shove _that _rubbish—oh, your kid's here." The glinting magical eye had swiveled in Aidan's direction.

"He's been here for well over an hour," McGonagall said pointedly.

"Well, that's not my bloody fault, is it? _I _didn't ask 'im to come."

"No, I did. For Harry's sake," Remus's voice was quiet, but each word was very clear. "For all our sakes."

"No need to get dramatic," Moody took a swig from his hip flask, his magical eye never leaving Aidan. "Harry's been askin' for ya, in fact."

Aidan didn't like being under the gaze of the independent eyeball, but he tried not to show it.

"For how long?" he asked.

Moody shrugged. "Just a few minutes. Figured I'd humor the bloody nurses by comin' down here and checkin' to see if you'd showed up."

"If he's asking for me, I'd like to see him," Aidan said, keeping his voice level.

Moody waved a hand towards the doors. "Kingsley'll take ya to his room. He's takin' over guard duty anyway."

"Is all this caution really necessary, Alastor?" Molly Weasley asked with a sigh.

"Constant vigilance, Molly," Moody replied, tapping the side of his nose. "This ain't my first war. I know what it takes to survive 'til things quiet down."

"Well, whatever the case, I'm going to go see him," Aidan said, getting up.

"Tell him we're here, would you?" Hermione requested. She was getting teary again.

Aidan nodded. "I will."

Then he headed out the door into the hall.


	3. Out of the Public Eye

**Author's Note: **Sorry this one took so long! I was drawing a blank for a while on where I wanted to go with the story, but it seems to be on track now.  
Please review if you read. I'd like to know what you think so far! Chapter 3 is in the works. 

* * *

**Chapter 2 – Out of the Public Eye**

Harry's room was small, dim, and very private. It was well away from ward 4F, down a twisty hallway lined with rooms, most of them empty but a few, like Harry's, with their doors tightly shut. Kingsley took up a post beside the door as soon as he and Aidan arrived outside the room.

"Best just to humor Alastor when he's in a mood," he remarked. Aidan nodded before knocking on the door.

"Harry?" he called quietly. "It's Aidan. Can I come in?"

There was a pause, then Harry's voice replied, "Yeah."

Aidan entered the room, casting one quick glance over his shoulder at Kingsley before closing the door behind him.

Harry was sitting up in bed, looking at least as pale and drawn as everyone in the ward had. He was also, understandably, battered, though Aidan suspected the damage was more magical than physical. But the thing that was really startling was how much older Harry looked.

Aidan had seen pretty much everyone six months previously over the Christmas holidays, including Harry, Ron, and Hermione. While they had been far from carefree, they'd still behaved like typical teenagers much of the time, joking, laughing, and generally enjoying each other's company. The look of utter weariness that Harry had now was so far removed from that attitude that Aidan was momentarily struck dumb.

There were colors, too: misty white and grey exhaustion, the pale red of anger now spent, a blue haze of sadness, and something turquoise that seemed to be relief. Aidan couldn't be sure what was causing each one, but he felt he could hazard a pretty good guess.

For the moment, though, it seemed best not to address any of the emotions that were swirling around the room. Instead, Aidan drew a chair up beside Harry's bed and sat down with his elbows resting on his knees.

"I'm glad you're here," Harry said quietly.

Aidan did his best to smile. "Dad owled me. I got here as fast as I could. Hermione and Neville are here, too."

"They okay?" Harry asked.

"They're up and moving around," Aidan replied. "Neville's on a crutch, but it looks like he'll be fine."

Harry nodded. "Good. I'd like to see them later. Is Moody still outside?"

"It's Shacklebolt now. The nurses made Moody go to bed."

"I doubt that he went just because they said so," Harry remarked with a wry chuckle. "But I'm glad. You never know how closely he's watching you with that eye."

"Ugh," Aidan made a face. "I hate that thing. It's one of those bits of magic I haven't been able to get used to."

"I don't think you _can _get used to it, unless you're Moody," Harry sighed. "I wish he wasn't so bloody paranoid. I'd rather be in the ward so I know what's going on."

"What do the Healers and the nurses say?" Aidan wanted to know.

Harry rolled his eyes. "That I'm too vulnerable and too traumatized to be around that many people yet."

Aidan wanted to ask, "Are you?" but that would inevitably lead to talk about the battle, which Harry was obviously trying to avoid. So he smiled again and said,

"Load of bollocks, right?"

"That's what I said!" Harry exclaimed, nodding. "But nobody listened."

"That figures," Aidan remarked. "Any idea when they're going to let you out of here?"

"Not a clue," Harry replied. "I've been taking my potions like a good boy and letting the Healers do their hex reversals, but I have no idea how long they're going to keep at it."

"Well, one thing's for sure: they can't keep you isolated forever."

"I wouldn't mind laying low until the hype dies down," Harry admitted. "The last thing I want is someone like Rita Skeeter getting in my face and asking questions. But it could take ages for people to lose interest. I don't want to stay here _that _long."

Aidan frowned thoughtfully. "You could stay with me."

"Really?" Harry exclaimed. His eyes—and the mood in the room—brightened considerably.

"Sure. I'll have to give my parents a head's-up first, but we have plenty of room," Aidan replied. "And I doubt very many people would go looking for you in a Muggle town."

"That would be great," said Harry, in a turquoise flood of relief. "I've got to get out of here first, though."

"I have a feeling Moody's going to be harder to convince on that front than the Healers are," Aidan mused. "Then again, it's their opinion that counts, at least medically…"

"What are you thinking?" Harry asked, watching the pensive look on Aidan's face.

"I'm going to see if I can get the ball rolling on your discharge," Aidan replied. "I doubt any of the Healers will listen to me, but they might listen to my dad or McGonagall. Then I have to try and send an owl to my parents." 

* * *

To Aidan's slight frustration, Hermione's earlier assumption turned out to be right, and there were no available owls in St. Mungo's. He turned his attention instead to getting Harry out of the hospital. 

He ran the idea of having Harry stay at his house by Remus and McGonagall. Both agreed that it might be good for Harry to stay out of the public eye of the wizarding world for a while. But, as Aidan had suspected, Moody was less than happy with the idea.

"Who's gonna look after him, that's what I'd like to know," he grumbled.

"I will," Aidan replied evenly. "And I'm sure my parents will, as well. They're almost as overprotective as you are."

"Don't you get smart with me, boy. I was hunting down Death Eaters before you were born," Moody growled, fixing Aidan with a piercing glare. His magical eye wobbled.

"Aw, lay off him, Mad-Eye," said Tonks from her bed. "The worst threat to Harry right now is the press, and they won't find him in Muggle space."

"Tonks has a point," Remus agreed. "Even in the state everything's in right now, I doubt the Ministry would be happy if reporters went poking in every nook and cranny looking for Harry, especially around Muggles."

"Well, I don't suppose I can stop ya," Moody grumbled. "But I still don't like it."

"With all due respect, Alastor, it's not your call," McGonagall said. She turned to Aidan. "Remus and I will have a word with the Healers."

"Thanks," Aidan said with half a smile. "I'd better head home and let my parents know what's going on."

"I'll keep you posted," Remus told him. "As soon as I can get an owl, anyway."

Aidan nodded and left the ward. Gusts of emotions and their colors followed him until he was out of the building. He felt a little guilty for the relief that washed over him as he drove away.

His adoptive parents had been home from work for an hour or so by the time he got back. Aidan found them in the kitchen, getting dinner ready, and began to set the table in the hopes that they would take his late arrival in stride and not ask too many questions.

The Winterton's only shortcoming was their tendency to treat Aidan like he was made of glass, despite his technically being an adult. Aidan had put up with it for a long time before it started to really bother him, and for the past year or so he had lived on campus at university to give himself a break. Joe Winterton had taken the hint and started treating Aidan more like a man than a boy, but Maria was still rather overprotective and excitable.

"Oh Aidan, I'm glad you're home! We were starting to worry," she exclaimed as Aidan got a stack of plates out of the cabinet.

"I was only gone for a few hours, Mum," Aidan replied. "And I left a note. Did you get it?"

"Yes, we did," Joe was the one to answer before Maria could go off about how Aidan had promised to send another note by owl. "Is everything all right with Harry?"

"Not…exactly," Aidan said slowly. He hadn't worked out how he was going to explain the battle's aftermath. Though the Wintertons knew that Harry's life was different and had gotten used to owls bringing the mail, they still weren't clear on the details of the wizarding world. It wasn't that Aidan didn't want to tell them; he simply knew that they wouldn't understand most of it no matter how he tried to explain.

"Oh dear, what happened?" Maria asked, her concern immediately redirecting itself.

"He's going through a rough time,' Aidan said, deciding that this was the safest answer for now. "Actually, I was hoping that he could come stay with us for a while."

"I don't see why not. We have plenty of room," said Joe.

"Joe, are you sure?" Maria inquired, looking worried. "I mean, we're gone so much of the time, and—"

"And Aidan's perfectly capable of keeping his brother entertained," Joe interrupted. He gave Maria a reassuring smile. "There's no need to worry so much, dear. Now come on, let's eat."

All through dinner, Aidan kept glancing out the window in the hopes that Remus had been able to send an owl. He didn't relish the thought of going back to the emotional turmoil at St. Mungo's but, at the same time, he wanted to get Harry out of there. Being isolated and under constant guard wasn't doing him any good, no matter what Moody thought.

The owl didn't come until the next morning. It woke Aidan up at around seven, tapping impatiently on his bedroom window. It was the same type of important-looking bird that had brought Remus's first letter the day before. Aidan dragged himself out of bed to let it in, and got it a handful of food from beside the cage of his own small owl.

_Aidan, _(the letter read)

_The Healers have assured me that they will be ready to discharge Harry by noon today. Convincing them was not easy, but they don't seem to have been able to find any medical reason to keep him here._

_See you later._

_Love,_

_Remus_

The owl gave Aidan an almost disdainful look while he read the letter, as if it had better things to do than wait for him to decide whether or not he wanted to reply. It had taken a similar disdainful interest in the food, though it had eaten without any audible complaints. Aidan gave it a bleary look before scrawling a reply to Remus, saying he'd be at St. Mungo's a little before noon. The owl gave one annoyed hoot, took the note, and flew off.

True to his word, Aidan arrived at St. Mungo's at quarter to twelve. This time, he headed straight for the elevator, went up to the fourth floor, and did his best to ignore Gilderoy Lockhart, who was sitting in a corridor with his stack of photographs.

"You're missing a wonderful opportunity!" Lockhart shouted after him as he headed to ward 4F.

He was surprised and glad to see that the ward was emptier than it had been the day before. McGonagall's bed was empty, as was Tonks', and Shacklebolt was nowhere in sight. Remus was sitting in a chair by the door, reading the newspaper. He stood up when Aidan came in, and Aidan noticed that his arm was no longer in a sling.

"I'm glad you're here," he said. "Harry's anxious to leave."

"I still say it's a bad idea," Moody grumbled from a bed across the room.

"You talked to him, then?" Aidan asked, ignoring him.

Remus nodded. "Last night. I wanted to let him know how far I was getting with the Healers."

"And you're sure they'll let him out at noon?"

"Yes," Remus affirmed. "Like I said in my note, they have no medical reason to keep him here."

"Er, this may not be the best time to ask," Aidan said slowly, "but what exactly happened to him?" The question had been bouncing around in his head ever sine he'd spoken with Harry the previous day. Aside from the weariness, Harry had seemed fine physically, and what emotions Aidan had picked up on hadn't been as potent as he would have expected after a battle of such magnitude.

"Nothing that time won't fix," Remus replied. "I have a feeling that Harry won't be forthcoming with details for a while yet."

"You mean you don't know?" Aidan asked, a but surprised.

"All I could gather was that most of his battle with Voldemort was mental," Remus replied. "We were all pretty well occupied while it was going on."

"Then it'd probably be a bad idea to ask," Aidan concluded, toying with his ponytail. "What a mess."

Before Remus could reply, voices sounded in the hall and the door to the ward opened, admitting Hermione, Neville, and two tall, identical, red-haired young men. Hermione was talking to them, but Neville remained silent, leaning moodily on his crutch.

"Everything's still in a right mess," one of the young men was saying.

"Fortunately, most of the shop survived," the other added.

"Probably because the Death Eaters didn't want dung bombs going off in their faces," the first continued.

"Not that we care what they wanted," said the second. He looked up and both finally seemed to notice that there were other people in the ward. For some reason, they chose Aidan to home in on, possibly because he was the only one looking the slightest bit amused.

"Aidan, my lad!" said one.

"Good to see you!" said the other. Each clapped Aidan on the shoulder companionably, radiating a carefree sort of orange color. Aidan finally remembered who they were: Fred and George Weasley, Molly and Arthur's twin sons, who owned a joke shop in Diagon Alley and rarely took anything seriously. He'd run into them one or twice during visits with Harry and remembered them being friendly, if not a little annoying.

"Come to spring Harry from this hellhole, have you?" asked Fred, or maybe it was George; Aidan had trouble telling them apart.

"Once you have, bring him by our shop," added George (or perhaps Fred). "We're having a rubbish sale."

"Do the pair of ye have any actual _news_, or did ya just come to jabber?" Moody demanded.

"Well, there's no need to be like _that_," said Fred-or-George with a dramatic roll of his eyes.

"We have, in fact, brought a plethora of interesting tidbits which may prove…interesting," George-or-Fred added.

"But first," said Fred-or-George, "where're Mum and Dad?"

"Arthur went to have more tests done," Remus was the one to reply. "It may be a while before they're back."

"Ah, well, I suppose we could share now," said George-or-Fred with a quick glance at his brother, who shrugged.

It turned out that this was the first time that Fred and George had left Diagon Alley since the battle. Much of the morning had the previous evening had been spent searching for missing people, shoring up the walls that were still standing, and generally cleaning things up.

One of the rescue parties had found Ollivander, which had come as a great relief. He had been missing for the better part of two years and was generally assumed to be dead. It turned out that the Death Eaters had considered him "too valuable" to kill, and when the battle had gotten messy, he'd found a chance to escape. He spent a couple of days hiding in the lower vaults of Gringotts and, aside from being a little dirty and hungry, he seemed fine.

"Still no sign of Florean Fortescue, though," Fred-or-George said a bit wistfully.

"Alas, poor Florean; we knew him well!" proclaimed George-or-Fred, clapping a hand to his chest.

"Knew his ice cream, anyway," Fred-or-George added.

"All right, that's enough," Remus said quietly. His level tone did more to silence Fred and George than any amount of griping from Moody would have. Aidan suspected that the ruddy puff of emotion coming off Remus had something to do with it.

The doors at the opposite end of the ward opened just then, admitting Molly and Arthur, who looked much better than he had the previous day and was now up and walking with Molly's help. Fred and George immediately went over to them, forming a private huddle of Weasleys near Arthur's bed.

"They seem almost _too _upbeat," Aidan remarked quietly to Hermione. She replied by glancing over her shoulder at the Weasleys and waving Aidan out in to the hall. Neville followed a little shakily.

"They don't know about Ron yet," Hermione explained once the door of the ward was shut behind them. "They were in Diagon Alley before the battle started, so this is the first time they've talked to anyone who was fighting somewhere else."

Aidan blew out a breath between his teeth. "That's rough. Do you think Molly's going to tell them yet?"

"I don't know," Hermione replied, shaking her head. "She might not want to burden them with it now, though waiting might be worse…"

"Speaking of waiting, it's five after twelve," Aidan said, glancing at his watch. "It should be able to get Harry out of here."

"Can we come visit him later?" Hermione asked, and Neville nodded eagerly.

"Sure," Aidan replied. "You just might want to warn Neville here about my mother's tendency to force tea on everyone she meets."

"Doesn't bother me," Neville said with a laugh, surprising both Aidan and Hermione, as this was the first time he'd said a word.

"Mind if I ask what's had you so gloomy?" Aidan asked him.

Neville sighed. "My grandmother."

"He's not looking forward to going home," Hermione added by way of explanation.

"I'm guessing she's not the 'cookies and milk and fresh bread in the oven' type," Aidan said, raising an eyebrow.

"No. She's the 'make you life a living hell if she's the least bit disappointed in you' type," Neville replied with surprising bitterness.

"Oh Neville, I keep telling you, there's no reason for her to be disappointed in you," Hermione said, her exasperation indicating that they'd had this conversation several times already.

"She'll find _something_," Neville said darkly.

"Well, just come by the house around dinnertime," Aidan said, attempting to get the conversation back on track. "Mum never minds cooking for guests."

"Thanks," said Hermione. "We'll be there."

The sound of footsteps made all three of them look up. McGonagall was coming around the corner, looking much less tired than she had the previous day. In fact, aside from a slight limp, she looked fine. She had something silvery hanging over one arm, which she held up as she approached.

"Aidan, I'm glad you're still here," she said brightly. "I was afraid I wouldn't be able to find this before you tried to leave with Harry."

"Where did you find it?" Hermione exclaimed. "I thought it was gone."

"It took a lot of time and locating charms," McGonagall replied, handing the thing to Aidan. It was surprisingly light for its size.

"Oh," Aidan laughed, suddenly comprehending. "Harry's invisibility cloak. Good idea. I had been wondering how I was going to get him out without people bothering us, especially with that autographed self-portrait guy hanging around."

"Believe me, Lockhart would have been the least of your worries," said McGonagall. "Right outside the extra ring of security charms that were put up yesterday is just about every reporter and interested party from the entire wizarding world. No doubt every one of them wants to interview Harry, or get his autograph."

"Reporters and teenyboppers and hangers-on," Aidan mused, shaking his head. "Like this is some kind of Beatles concert and not the aftermath of a war."

McGonagall looked at him in polite incomprehension. "Beatles concert…?"

"Never mind. It's just insane, is all," said Aidan. He folded the invisibility cloak and stuck it under his arm. "I'm going to go see if Harry's ready to leave."


	4. Home and Dry, Or Not

**Author's Note: **By the grace of Jolt gum, this chapter has been posted tonight (or is it this morning?)! I apologize for how utterly long it took me to write this and post it. Ideas for the plot kept shifting in my mind, and for a while I wasn't sure where I was going with it. It turned out to be somewhat of a transition chapter; more actual plot will occur later. I've been working on knitting a heavily-cabled sweater that's taking up a lot of my free time, so I can't make any promises on when chapter 4 will appear. 

* * *

**  
Chapter 3 – Home and Dry (Or Not)**

Harry was more than ready to leave and, thanks to the invisibility cloak, he and Aidan made it out of St. Mungo's with minimal fuss. The only people who needed to physically see Harry in order to authorize his discharge were the Healers who had been taking care of him and the nurse at the desk right outside ward 4F. Since Kingsley turned out to still be hanging around, obliging Moody's wishes that Harry be guarded, this didn't create as much of a stir as it otherwise might have, and Harry and Aidan were in Aidan's car, driving away from St. Mungo's, in no time.

"What was all that stuff the Healers gave you?" Aidan asked once they were on their way.

"Just a couple of potions I'm supposed to keep taking for two or three days," Harry replied, rolling his eyes. "They're all so overprotective."

"You _did _just come out of a serious ordeal," Aidan reminded him quietly.

"Sure, but you'd think everyone would find that as good a reason as any to leave me alone," said Harry. He sounded so flippant that Aidan glanced at him in surprise out of the corner of his eye.

"Well, if you want to be left alone, my parents are the last people you want to be around," he said slowly, attempting to match his brother's lighthearted tone.

"Them, I won't mind. It's Moody and his paranoia that I'm glad to be away from," Harry replied. "I can't believe he wouldn't even let Hermione and Neville see me."

"They're coming over for dinner later," Aidan told him.

"Good. I'm ready for some normality."

"Strange thing to hear, coming from someone with an invisibility cloak in his lap," Aidan said with a grin. Harry laughed.

"I should put this thing away before we get to your house," he said. "I can't imagine what your parents would think of it."

"Oh, Dad takes most things in stride these days. It's Mum you have to worry about," said Aidan. "You should have seen her eyes bug out the first time she heard me call Remus 'Dad'. She seems to have trouble with the idea of me being perfectly happy balancing an adoptive family _and _blood relatives."

"I've noticed that," Harry nodded. "I always meant to ask why she's so worried when it's obvious you're not."

"I've tried to figure that out, myself. I think her reasoning is that, since I hardly ever appear upset, I must be hiding it when I really am, and she has to do the worrying for both of us," Aidan shrugged. "I don't pretend to understand it."

"She's not going to fuss over me, is she?" Harry asked wearily.

"Probably, but I'll do what I can to head her off before she gets _too _annoying," Aidan grinned again as he turned into the driveway. "Need any help with your stuff?"

Harry shook his head, so Aidan showed him to the guest room and stuck around to help him unpack.

He didn't really have much of anything with him in the way of belongings. Aidan learned during the course of unpacking that half of Harry's Muggle clothes were still at his aunt and uncle's house, his books and school things were still at Hogwarts, and an independent owlery that Hagrid knew the owner of was looking after Hedwig.

"A bunch of us sent our owls along there to keep them safe," Harry said. "I'll have to go pick Hedwig up, or ask Hagrid if he can."

"We can take a ride out tomorrow if you want," Aidan offered.

"Really? Thanks," Harry grinned at Aidan over his shoulder as he hung a rather wrinkled shirt in the wardrobe. "I'm tempted to ask you to bring me over to the Dursley's, too, but I think I'd rather do laundry a hundred times this summer than deal with those idiots just for the sake of a few clothes…"

"From what you've told me about them, it probably wouldn't be worth the trouble," Aidan agreed. "If you find yourself in need of pants, though, we could go shopping."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Why pants specifically?"

Aidan shrugged. "'Pants' is a funny word."

They were still laughing and talking when Aidan's parents arrived home two hours later. Harry was obliged to go downstairs and say hello to them, and was subjected to several of Maria Winterton's more panicky exclamations about how tired he looked before he was turned back over to Aidan and the two of them escaped to the living room to watch TV.

Harry was nothing short of delighted at this. There were, of course, no televisions at Hogwarts, and those at Harry's aunt and uncle's house were always commandeered by his vacant, obese cousin. He and Aidan were in the middle of watching a marathon of _Fawlty__Towers_ which, much to Aidan's astonishment, Harry had never even heard of, when the doorbell rang.

"That must be Hermione and Neville," Aidan said, getting up from the couch. Harry got up, as well, and followed Aidan eagerly to the front hallway.

Joe Winterton got there first and was shaking hands with Neville as they came into the hall. Though Neville was attempting to smile and be polite, there was still an air of discontent about him, a sort of brick-colored emotion mixed with grey. This was undercut by a bright flood of delight from Hermione when she caught sight of Harry.

"Harry!" she exclaimed, rushing at him and practically jumping into his arms. Harry blinked in surprise, then laughed, returning the hug.

"Hi, Hermione. Hi, Neville," he added over Hermione's shoulder.

This time, Neville's smile was genuine. "Hi, Harry."

"We've been so worried about you," Hermione said, finally letting Harry go and stepping back. "How are you doing?"

"Just fine now that I'm away from prying eyes, especially Moody's," Harry replied.

"I'll let you kids talk," Joe Winterton interjected with a smile. "Dinner should be ready soon."

"Okay, Dad," Aidan nodded. Once Joe was out of earshot, he turned to Neville. "He didn't bug you about your leg, did he?"

Neville shook his head. "No."

"Good. Mum probably will, though. Just warning you," Aidan grinned a bit. Neville shifted his weight on the crutch and shrugged.

"Better than the welcome my grandmother gave me," he muttered.

"What'd she do now?" Harry asked.

"I don't want to talk about it," Neville said morosely.

"You need a good dose of comedy," Aidan told him. "Why don't we all go watch TV until dinner?"

* * *

Dinner was a rather awkward affair. Maria Winterton's eyes nearly fell out of her head when she saw Neville hobble in with his crutch, and it was difficult to talk about anything important when she and Joe were constantly exchanging puzzled glances. Eventually, talk settled to more normal things like books, summer, and the absurd hilarity of _Fawlty__Towers_. When everyone had finished eating, Aidan seized the opportunity and offered to clear the table.

"That's all right, Aidan, you don't have to–" Maria began.

"It's fine, Mum. I want to," Aidan interrupted, getting up and beginning to gather plates before Maria could protest further. Harry took the hint and got up to help.

"And you thought your grandmother was bad," he remarked over his shoulder to Neville once Maria and Joe had gone. Aidan chuckled, but Neville merely frowned at the tabletop.

"Oh, Harry, don't tease him," Hermione chided, getting to her feet and bringing the glasses over to the sink. "He's still in bad shape, you know. The Healers at St. Mungo's put him on a low dose of Skelegrow for the next week."

"Ouch," Harry winced. "Sorry, Neville. You must've gotten busted up pretty badly."

"It could have been worse, I guess," Neville replied. "I didn't really understand what the Healers were talking about, but it sounded like the bone got crushed and they were afraid to re-grow it too fast."

"He'd be in agony if it wasn't for pain potions," Hermione amended.

"Can I ask what happened?" said Aidan from his position by the dishwasher. Harry rinsed another plate and passed it to him, growing suddenly quiet.

"A group of us were holding off some Death Eaters near the Great Hall and a misaimed hex blew part of a wall down," Neville replied. "I didn't move fast enough."

Aidan whistled between his teeth. "Sounds like you're lucky it didn't crush you."

"It almost did," Neville said, "but Remus pulled me out of the way."

"Ah. Is that when he hurt his arm?" Aidan inquired.

"No, that happened later," Hermione was the one to reply. "It wasn't too bad, though. Clean breaks are easier to fix."

"More's the pity," Neville murmured. Harry passed the last dish to Aidan and stretched, yawning hugely.

"I hate to do this to you guys," he said to Hermione and Neville, "but I've got to go to bed. I didn't sleep much at St. Mungo's and I'm exhausted."

"Okay, Harry," Hermione said, hugging Harry again. "We'll see you soon." Neville affirmed this with a nod.

Aidan watched Harry go, drumming his fingers on the counter thoughtfully.

"He looks awful," Hermione whispered.

"I know," Aidan nodded slowly. "But he seems all right otherwise. I expected him to be at least a little withdrawn or upset, but he's acting like this is any other summer vacation. I guess I can't blame him for wanting a little normality."

"Since when has anything ever been normal?" Neville remarked suddenly. Hermione and Aidan looked over at him, surprised, as he continued. "We've lived most of our lives in fear or with something bad just one step away from happening. Now that we've been through the one big, final, ghastly thing, life isn't going to go back to any kind of normal that we recognize."

"You make that sound like it's a bad thing," Aidan said. Neville scratched his head.

"I guess what I mean is, the battle got rid of You-Know-Who, but fighting can't bring anyone _back_."

"What brought this on?" Hermione asked gently.

"My grandmother asked me if I killed any Death Eaters," was Neville's bland reply.

"She didn't!" Hermione exclaimed in shock.

"She did. First thing she said when I got home from St. Mungo's."

"And are you upset because you had to tell her you did," Aidan said slowly, trying to figure out what he was missing in the conversation, "or because you had to tell her you didn't?"

"The fact that she asked at all is bad enough," Neville replied, frowning. "As if that was the whole point of the battle. As if nothing else mattered!"

"Oh," Hermione said, suddenly understanding. "Not just any Death Eaters. She meant the Lestranges, didn't she?"

Neville nodded, and Aidan saw a crimson swirl of anger spiral off him. This came as a bit of a shock given that, as far as Aidan had been able to tell, Neville's usual nature was a quiet, gentle intelligence that surrounded him in teal blue. Before Aidan had a chance to ask what Hermione had meant, Neville spoke again. His voice was low, tinted with the intensity of his uncharacteristic anger.

"She wouldn't let me explain that they were nowhere near anyone's first priority. Even if they had been, and even if I'd been able to get at them, I couldn't kill them. I couldn't use _Avada__Kedavra_ on anyone." He paused, sighing almost wistfully. "I hate them for what they did to my parents, and I'm glad the Ministry caught them. I hope they get put to death. I just couldn't be the one to do it. What good would it have done, anyway? Killing them wouldn't bring Mum and Dad's sanity back or make up for the fact that I never really got to know them. As far as my grandmother's concerned, though, I've officially failed at everything in life."

Judging by the way Hermione was staring at him, this kind of speech was as unusual for Neville as the anger was. Aidan had lost the thread of the conversation somewhere back around when Death Eaters had first been mentioned, and therefore had no idea what Neville was talking about. He knew better than to press for an explanation at the moment. However, he couldn't help thinking that the kind of forceful attitude Neville was displaying was something like what he'd been expecting from Harry.

"Things are going to be crazy for a while, I think," he said at last. "That's one of the reasons I wanted Harry to stay here. I probably can't fix anything, but at least he has a place to relax."

"I think it's good for him," Hermione said. "No matter how he's acting, I don't think he should be out in the aftermath of everything."

"Is there anything I need to know about what happened to him during the battle?" Aidan inquired. "I asked my dad, but he didn't seem to have any idea of what went on."

"None of us do," Hermione replied, shaking her head.

"Hmm," Aidan frowned, looking pensive for a moment. Then he straightened up and shrugged. "Oh, well. He'll talk about it when he's ready. Did you guys want anything else to eat?"

* * *

Hermione and Neville left about half an hour later. Neville found it hard to Apparate with his crutch, so Hermione was driving him home. Aidan saw them both to the door before heading upstairs.

On his way down the hall, he poked his head into the guest room to check on Harry. Harry was fast asleep, snoring slightly and looking as if he hadn't a care in the world. The only color in the room was a comfortable, gauzy pink that usually accompanied sleep. Aidan watched him thoughtfully for a moment, shrugged, and went to bed. 

* * *

The next morning, Aidan and Harry set out in Aidan's car to go get Hedwig. Harry seemed cheered by the prospect. He'd woken up, not necessarily upset, but quiet and preoccupied. Once in the car, though, he opened up, and soon he and Aidan were talking and laughing as they had been the previous day.

The owlery was farther out in the country than Aidan had anticipated, but the drive was a pleasant one. Green fields and the hues of heather in bloom rolled past the windows for miles. At last, Harry pointed to a side road. Aidan turned down it and was surprised to find that, after a short way, it led to the front gate of what looked like a Muggle farm. To one side, a couple of horses were grazing in a paddock, and Aidan could see chickens running around a short distance away on the other side. He slowed to a halt beside the gate.

"We'll have to walk the rest of the way," Harry said as he unbuckled his seatbelt and got out of the car. "I'd signal that we're here, but I haven't had time go get a new wand."

Aidan paused in the act of dropping the car keys into his jacket pocket. "What happened to your old one?"

"It broke," Harry answered shortly. "Come on, let's go."

They walked along a path among barns and fields in silence. After a while, the path took a sharp turn to the right, passed between some hedges, and revealed a cluster of some of the tallest buildings that Aidan had ever seen.

There were dozens of towers, almost like silos but with pointed roofs, arranged in a vast circle. From every one came the sounds of owls: owls hooting, owls screeching, owls settling down to sleep. As Aidan was staring at the array, a straggler from the night before soared in, alighted on the opening just under the roof of one of the towers, and disappeared inside.

A moment later, a short man with thick glasses, who looked very much like an owl himself, came around one of the far towers, followed by the hulking shape of none other than Rubeus Hagrid. The two of them were talking excitedly, but the chatter stopped when Hagrid caught sight of Harry.

"Harry!" he exclaimed. He came over and enfolded Harry in a bone-crunching hug. "We weren't expectin' yeh yet! When did yeh get out o' St. Mungo's?"

Harry laughed against Hagrid's coat. "Yesterday."

"Yer not stayin' with those horrible relatives o' yours, are yeh?" Hagrid asked, letting Harry go and fixing him with a look of concern.

"Ugh, of course not," Harry shook his head. "I'm staying with decent family."

Hagrid looked over Harry's head and noticed Aidan standing with his hands in his pockets. He nodded. "That's good. Hi Aidan."

"Hi, Hagrid," Aidan said with a slight smile. He didn't know Hagrid very well, having only run into him a couple of times, but he was aware of Hagrid's jovial nature and love of animals. Harry always spoke fondly of him, and Aidan could tell that Harry was very glad to see him now.

"Well, I suppose yer here ta pick Hedwig up," Hagrid was saying. Harry nodded.

"I'm not sure how smart it'd be to use her for mail just yet, but I'd like to have her around, at least," he replied.

"Hedwig, Hedwig," the small, owlish man was saying. He had produced a clipboard from somewhere and was flipping through the stack of paper attached to it. "Ah, yes. Mr. Potter's owl." He looked up, giving Harry a friendly grin. "Honored I am to house her for you, Mr. Potter," he said. "She's a wonderful bird. Smart, too. Let the other owls know who was boss in no time at all, she did."

"Bossy little bugger, ain't she?" Hagrid said happily. "No offense meant, o' course."

"None taken," Harry assured him, laughing again.

"She's in tower three," the owlish man said. "I'll go fetch her for you, unless you'd like to come along?"

"That would be great," Harry nodded. He turned to Aidan. "Do you mind?"

"No, go right ahead," Aidan replied, sticking his hands back in his pockets. Truth be told, he wanted an excuse to speak with Hagrid privately.

He waited until Harry had disappeared into one of the towers before addressing the half-giant. "Can I ask you something, Hagrid?"

"O' course," Hagrid replied. Concern creased his brow. "Everythin's all right with Harry, isn't it?"

"Harry's doing fine," Aidan assured him. "It's just that I've been trying to get an idea of what went on during the battle, and I don't think I should be asking him about it yet."

Hagrid stroked his beard thoughtfully. Another thing that Aidan had been able to pick up about him was that he often said far more than he should, especially on personal subjects. While taking advantage of this went against his usual policy of honesty, Aidan had a feeling that Hagrid might be the first person who could give him some answers.

"I see what yeh mean," Hagrid said after a moment. "It weren't no picnic, what went on at Hogwarts durin' that battle. Death Eaters everywhere, most of 'em fightin' but some just makin' trouble. Had ta stop a few who kept tryin' ta set fire to the forest."

"Did you see what happened to Harry?" Aidan interrupted as politely as he could.

"Not much, no," Hagrid admitted, "We were all tryin' ta keep things clear for him, y'see, make sure nobody tried ta take a shot at him while he was fightin' You-Know-Who. Strangest thing, too…" he trailed off.

"What was?" Aidan prompted, surprised at the hesitation.

"Well," Hagrid said slowly. "I never liked Snape much, but I'd've sworn he was tryin' to help us. Didn't make it too obvious, but there were times when it looked like he was fightin' for our side."

Aidan recalled Remus's brief mention of Snape in his initial letter from St. Mungo's. His own impression of Snape had been that of a bad-tempered, emotionally unbalanced man who spent a lot of time on well-honed sulking. The thought of him voluntarily helping Harry was almost laughable. Before Aidan could ask more, however, the owlish man emerged from the tower with Harry, who was happily carrying Hedwig in her cage.

"Now if you'll just sign her out, Mr. Potter, you'll be ready to go," the owlish man was saying. He proffered his clipboard to Harry so that Harry could scribble his signature on one of the many pieces of paper attached to it, then took it back with a businesslike nod before disappearing into the base of another tower.

"All set?" Aidan asked with a bit of a grin. Harry nodded, and Hagrid gave him another massive hug before he and Aidan set off again.

* * *

In the car, Harry babbled happily about the owlery, marveling at the sheer number of birds that it housed and relating some of the things that the owlish man had told him about training postal owls. 

Aidan tried to listen, but he was thinking about what Hagrid had said. By itself, it didn't really amount to much, but there was something about it that was nagging him, like there was a connection he should be making. It was a while before he realized that Harry had asked him a question.

"Sorry, what?"

"I said, why are you looking at me like that?" Harry repeated, raising an eyebrow.

"Like what?" Aidan asked, surprised. He hadn't been aware that he was looking at Harry at all.

"Like you can read my mind by staring hard enough at my ear," Harry replied. "Look, I know Hagrid talks too much, but whatever he took it upon himself to tell you, don't worry about it. I'm fine."

Aidan figured it would probably be a bad idea to mention that Hagrid had mostly talked about Snape, so he just nodded. "I know. I'm just thinking, that's all."

They rode in silence for a while before Harry asked, "Did Neville ever say what his grandmother did to put him in such a mood?"

Aidan hesitated. Death Eaters seemed about as welcome a subject as Snape would have been, but he found it pretty much impossible to lie in the face of a direct question.

"From what I could gather, she asked him something inappropriate about what happened at Hogwarts," he said cautiously. Harry's eyebrows drew together.

"Oh, dear Merlin, she _would_," he exclaimed, sounding exasperated. "Like that's his only purpose in life. Like it was _his _job to get revenge on bloody Bellatrix Lestrange!"

Aidan was surprised at the accuracy of Harry's guess. He wondered briefly if Harry had been listening in on the pervious night's conversation instead of going to bed, but dismissed the thought. There was a faint but definite wisp of emotion coming off Harry and, though he was unable to take a good look because he was driving, Aidan had the suspicion that Harry's anger didn't have anything to do with the insensitivity of Neville's grandmother.

"I didn't think revenge was the point," he remarked eventually. Harry put his chin in his hand and stared out the window without replying.

Aidan sighed and drove on, not knowing what else to say. He wanted Harry to talk about the battle but, at the same time, he didn't want to push too hard. It was a delicate balance that he didn't want to risk upsetting until he was sure Harry could handle it.

* * *

When they got back to the house, Harry immediately took Hedwig up to his room. Aidan followed, his mind still preoccupied. He leaned against the bedroom doorway and watched Harry make room for Hedwig's cage on top of the bureau.

"Was there something you wanted?" Harry said suddenly. His icy tone caught Aidan completely off-guard.

"No?" he replied, making the word a question as he raised an eyebrow. There was emotion swirling in the room, but it was a mottled grey color that was almost impossible to read. Bits of several other colors ran through it at random like brief glimpses of light through a prism.

"Then would you mind leaving me alone?" Harry shot back. His expression was almost a sneer.

"Back up for a minute," Aidan requested, holding up a hand. "What brought this on?"

"You!" Harry exclaimed. Red began to overtake the grey in the cloud of emotion. "First you're bloody nosy, and now you're following me around! We'll, I've got news for you: I don't need your help, or anyone else's!"

"Look Harry, if I said something that upset you, I'm sorry," Aidan said, trying to be soothing. "You have to realize that I'm kind of in the dark here."

"Then go find someone to enlighten you," Harry snapped before slamming the door in Aidan's face.

Aidan stood very still, looking at the door with the uneasy feeling that Harry's sanity was beginning to fray.


	5. Visitors

**Author's Note:** Sorry about the delay on this chapter! I haven't had a lot of time to devote to writing recently (more's the pity), but I'm still holding onto the idea that I'll finish this fic before the 7th book comes out. I can't make any promises, but that's my goal.

Also, I apologize in advance for the poker scene. I've been watching way too much _MASH_ while knitting.

* * *

**  
Chapter 4 – Visitors**

Things were pretty much the same for the next week. Harry would be fine, and then suddenly blow up without apparent provocation. Usually he wanted to be left alone, and several times he repeated his tirade about not needing anyone's help, though he never specified what it was he didn't need help with.

At first, Aidan had to wonder if the potions the nurses at St. Mungo's had sent home with Harry were partly to blame. He didn't know much about wizarding medicine, but there were definitely side effects. One of the potions made Harry terribly sick to his stomach, and he threw up every night for the three days he was taking it. But his erratic emotional swings continued even after the potions were gone, and Aidan began to suspect that Harry's guise of normality wasn't going to hold up much longer.

He did what he could, leaving Harry alone or offering comfort as was necessary but, regardless of his involvement, the outbursts were emotionally taxing. It was, therefore, a relief when Remus and Tonks showed up late the next morning, Remus in his usual worn, comfortable attire, and Tonks in a crazy amalgamation of Muggle clothing, wizard robes, and pink hair. They were heading to Diagon Alley to assist with the cleanup efforts and wanted to know if Harry and Aidan wanted to come, too.

Aidan hesitated. Visiting Diagon Alley and interacting with other people who were recovering from the same ordeal could be good for Harry. But on the other hand, there was a very good chance that it would set him off again. Remus frowned thoughtfully when Aidan explained this.

"Well, I suppose we shouldn't push him," he said eventually.

"I doubt him having a tantrum in public would go over well," Aidan agreed. "It's too bad, really. I'd like to see how things are going in Diagon Alley."

"So come with us," Tonks said. "Temper or no, Harry's a big lad. You don't have to baby-sit him."

Aidan laughed. "You know, you're right. I'll just go let him know I'm going out."

It turned out that Harry had shut himself in his room again, though from the sound of it he was sleeping rather than sulking. Aidan decided not to bother him. Instead, he left a note, grabbed his jacket, and went with Remus and Tonks to Diagon Alley.

He had been there a few times before with Harry, Ron and Hermione, mostly when Hermione was dragging Harry and Ron to Flourish & Blotts or Harry and Ron were dragging Hermione to Quality Quidditch Supplies. The entire street had always been bustling with activity, and the air rang with the sounds of people, animals, and the background hum of magic being used.

The air rang and hummed now, too, but with the bustle of cleanup rather than commerce. Aidan couldn't believe his eyes. What had once been a hub of wizard activity was now a wreck. The remains of buildings lay everywhere, and those that were still standing had broken windows or were missing parts of their roofs. A hoard of witches and wizards moved among it all, shouting back and forth to each other, levitating rubble out of the street, and trying to rebuild structures with a combination of magic and manual labor.

Worst of all, though, were the spells. Not the ones being used, but the remnants of others floating among the rubble and drifting between buildings. They had a dirty feel to them, broadcasting that they had been cast in anger with the intent to hurt, or worse. They left trails as they drifted, creating a web of macabre colors that overlaid everything else. It was like seeing a map of the battle laid out in tones of death, destruction, malice, and desperation.

Aidan shook himself. Outside of when he used his Healer powers on someone, he had never seen magic that way before. It made him feel like someone was sticking blades of ice between his ribs. If this was how things felt a week after the battle, he didn't even want to imagine how bad things had been when it was actually going on.

"You all right?" Tonks asked him.

"Yeah," Aidan nodded and tried to stop staring. "This place looks like a hurricane hit it."

Tonks let out a short laugh. "It would've been easier to clean up if one had."

Remus nodded in agreement. "If it was only physical damage, it would probably all be cleared up by now. But there were so many hexes and curses that it's dangerous to use magic to rebuild the places that got hit the hardest."

Aidan nodded slowly as he looked around again. There did seem to be several places where the wizards and witches were working exclusively by hand, hauling brick, stone, and charred wood into heaps, dividing what was usable from what wasn't. The tainted colors of old magic were strongest in those places, and Aidan found himself having to look away.

Among the rest of the buildings stood Gringotts bank. It looked to be the only thing that hadn't been damaged in some way, and its bulk separated the far end of Diagon Alley from the end closest to the Leaky Cauldron, where things were considerably less hectic. That end of the street seemed to have sustained the least damage, and the groups of people there were almost cheerful as they maneuvered pieces of buildings back into place, fixed broken windows, and shored up sagging walls, all by magic. Tonks gave Remus a quick hug before heading in that direction. Then Remus stood for a moment with his hands in his pockets, surveying the wreckage.

"Well," he said at last, "I guess we'd better go see who needs the most help."

The hours that followed were some of the most strenuous of Aidan's life, both physically and emotionally. Being without traditional magic, he was only able to offer help where manual labor was required, and so he spent much of his time at the far end of Diagon Alley, smack in the middle of all the stale spells that made him uneasy. Tonks spent most of her time at the other end of the street, and Remus went between both places, lending a hand wherever it was necessary.

It was both an enlightening and sobering experience to work side-by-side with people who had lost so much. Aidan heard so many battle stories and saw so many emotions that it was a wonder he didn't pass out. Several times, after particularly intense accounts, he had to excuse himself to get some air. But, as was often the case whether he meant for it to be or not, his presence seemed to calm people, and the group at the far end of Diagon Alley had cheered up considerably by the time tea rolled around.

True to form, Molly Weasley appeared from the direction of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, carrying a basket that turned out to hold far more tea and biscuits than seemed possible, and insisted that everyone take a break to eat something. The distraction was a welcome one, and soon people were sitting in groups, having tea and talking as if they weren't in the middle of the vestiges of a battlefield.

Aidan ended up sitting at one of the remaining tables outside what had been Florean Fortescue's ice cream parlor with Remus, Tonks, Arthur Weasley, and Ollivander. He had spent the last hour helping Ollivander sort through wands and rebuild shelves in the dusty interior of his shop, and during that time the man hadn't said a word that wasn't related to what they were doing. However, once Molly brought the tea around and conversation started, he joined in with battle stories of his own.

Aidan listened in horrified fascination. Ollivander was the only person he had met so far who had any real insight into the Death Eaters. Even though that insight was limited to what Ollivander had been allowed to see and hear, it was valuable to Aidan's understanding of what Harry, and the rest of the wizarding world, had really been up against.

On the other hand, listening to Ollivander speak was almost painful. The things he relayed were horrible; stories of torture, forceful incarceration, and the Death Eaters interrogating him on his knowledge of wands in an attempt to further their power. He had seen Voldemort only once and refused to talk about the encounter.

If Aidan had known the man better, he would have taken his hand and tried to dissipate some of the emotional pain. The scars obvious in Ollivander's halting voice and stony expression showed up around him in shades of red, blue, and black as he talked. Aidan came away from that teatime with the feeling that someone had reached inside him and put a voice grip on his stomach.

Other members of the Order began to show up as evening approached. Kingsley Shacklebolt and Hestia Jones came from Hogsmede, reporting that it was in no better shape than Diagon Alley. McGonagall arrived from Hogwarts with Hagrid a short while later. They all asked about Harry, and Aidan answered as truthfully as he could without going into detail about Harry's outbursts. But even this vague information was enough to elicit a look of concern from Hagrid and a shared, meaningful glance between McGonagall and Shacklebolt.

Talk of Harry reminded Aidan of home, and when he glanced at his watch he was startled to find that it was already well past the time his parents usually served dinner. Since Hagrid would be more than able to take over the manual side of things, Aidan said goodbye to everyone and let Remus Apparate him home.

The Wintertons and Harry were halfway through dinner when he came in. He must have looked as exhausted as he felt because the first words out of Maria Winterton's mouth were,

"Oh dear, are you all right?"

"What happened to you?" Harry asked at the same time.

"I'm fine, Mum. Sorry I'm so late," Aidan replied as he sat down at the table. To Harry, he said, "I went to Diagon Alley with Remus and Tonks."

"Your note said as much," Harry said, nodding. "Are you sure you're okay? You look kind of green."

"Side-along Apparating doesn't really agree with me," Aidan said, helping himself to some potatoes and ignoring his parents' puzzled looks.

"Oh," said Harry. He frowned thoughtfully and pushed his meat around his plate with his fork. "What's it like down in Diagon Alley?"

Aidan blinked at him in surprise. That was the absolute last thing he would have expected Harry to ask.

"Well," he replied cautiously, "it's pretty much a mess. The only things intact are Gringotts and the Leaky Cauldron, though Fred and George almost have their place fixed up and Hagrid was helping put the roof back on the robe shop when I left."

"It's still that bad?" Harry asked, frowning again.

"There was a lot of damage," Aidan said. "But people are really working at it; it'll get there. Which reminds me, Ollivander said to tell you to go see him as soon as you're ready for a new wand. He thinks he found one that will be a good match."

Harry responded with silence, which was better than yelling, but not by much. Maria and Joe exchanged a confused, worried glance, and Aidan sighed. He had hoped Harry showing interest was a sign that he was coming out of whatever funk he'd been in for the last week, but no such luck. Harry was completely silent for the rest of the evening.

Aidan almost preferred the yelling.

* * *

Things were back to normal by lunchtime the next day, but that didn't last very long.

Aidan and Harry were eating sandwiches and playing cards when the doorbell rang. Aidan raised his eyebrows.

"You expecting anyone?" he asked. Harry shook his head, frowning at his cards. Aidan shrugged and got up.

Answering the door revealed Fred and George, a clanking wooden crate levitating between them. For a moment, Aidan just looked at them in surprise. He was used to seeing Remus from time to time, and Tonks had been making more frequent appearances with him, but he barely knew Fred and George, and he was pretty sure they didn't know where he lived. Or rather, they hadn't; obviously, they did now. Aidan made a mental note to have a word with whoever had given them the address.

"What ho, Aidan my lad!" said one.

"Aren't you going to invite us in?" said the other.

"George and I have brought this lovely gift after a hard night's work in Hogsmede!" the first announced. Aidan nodded to himself. Now he'd be able to tell them apart, at least until they moved.

"You'd better bring that thing in before someone sees it," he said, standing aside to let Fred and George in with the crate. "Didn't your Mum ever teach you not to use magic around Muggles?"

"All the more reason to do it, right George?" Fred said with a smirk. George chuckled as the two of them lowered the crate onto the hallway floor with another round of clanking noises.

"What's in this, anyway?" Aidan inquired, peering between the wooden slats.

"This," said George theatrically, "is a case of the finest butterbeer in all of wizarding Britain."

"Part of our generous reward for putting in fourteen straight hours helping Ambrosius Flume put Honeydukes back in order," added Fred.

"We've got sweets coming out of our ears," George finished happily.

"And so you're…giving some away?" Aidan raised an eyebrow, folding his arms across his chest. "Why does that make me wary?"

"Are you saying you don't trust us?" Fred asked, feigning hurt.

"Should I?" Aidan replied.

"We'd swear under veritaserum that this butterbeer is given in good faith and is safe for consumption," George said, raising a hand.

"But as we don't have any," Fred added, "we swear it on our Mum's honor and further stipulate that dear Ronnikins wouldn't want us tormenting Harry at a time like this."

"Hear, hear!" George nodded emphatically.

Aidan shook his head, trying not to smile. Fred and George were practically his age, but they hadn't come close to growing up. And yet, even as they treated their youngest brother's death as some kind of joke or badge of honor, Aidan caught a glimpse of another emotion under the playful orange the boys normally exuded. It was hidden well but still visible, a shared streak of midnight blue sorrow.

"I thought I heard you guys," Harry's voice came suddenly. He had poked his head out of the kitchen and was grinning at Fred and George.

"Harry, old mate!" George exclaimed.

"We brought you a present!" said Fred.

Harry was, needless to say, delighted at the prospect of having an entire case of butterbeer for free, but shared Aidan's wariness about its source. Eventually Fred and George were persuaded to explain in more detail how they had gotten it.

After finishing up everything they could at their shop in Diagon Alley the night before, they had gone over to Hogsmede to see how things were going there. Being fans of both Honeydukes and the still-defunct Zonko's, they instantly volunteered to help repair and clean up both buildings. Both were on the end of town that had been unaffected by the fire the Death Eaters set, and after working all night with a group of other wizards and witches, Honeydukes was the first to be put back in working order.

"Flume was so grateful to everyone for getting him back in business that he started giving stuff away left and right," George said.

"And we're not ones to argue with free sugar," Fred added. "But alas, if we eat it all ourselves, we're likely to explode."

"Besides, we've got to grab a nap and head back," said George. "Nobody has their hands on Zonko's old place yet."

"And you're hoping you can sort of sneak in and take it if you help out enough," Aidan guessed.

"Righto," Fred nodded. "It certainly can't hurt to show interest."

Harry laughed, shaking his head. "You're crazy."

"We try," said George with a theatrical, sweeping bow.

"And now," said Fred, duplicating the bow, "we must be off."

He and George Disapparated with a pair of loud cracks. Once they had gone, Harry and Aidan looked at each other, and then at the butterbeer.

"You think it's safe?" Harry asked. Aidan considered this. Fred and George _had _sworn on their Mum's honor…

"Probably," he said. "But you couldn't get me to drink the first bottle." He paused, toying with his ponytail. "Is there some way to test it?"

Harry looked pensive. "Maybe I'd better go see Ollivander about that wand."

* * *

This turned out not to be a pressing concern. Tonks came by the next morning with Hermione and Neville, and was more than happy to do a quick spell to check the butterbeer for any mischief the Weasley twins might have been intending to cause with it. Much to Harry's surprise, and partly to Aidan's, it was safe to drink, and soon everyone had a bottle in hand.

Neville was off his crutch and doing much better. The low doses of Skelegrow had worked and, barring one more examination at St. Mungo's, he had a clean bill of health. He and Hermione had been spending most of their afternoons either in Hogsmede or at Hogwarts, doing whatever they could to assist in the cleanup and rebuilding, while Tonks and Remus were continuing to help out in Diagon Alley.

"Remus says hi, by the way," Tonks added. "He'd have come with us, but he's catching up on sleep."

"Full moon last night?" Aidan inquired. He had long since gotten used to this aspect of Remus's life.

Tonks nodded. "And he's worn out from all the cleanup work. When I came downstairs this morning, he was pretty much passed out on the couch, so I didn't bother him."

"Are you still staying at Grimmauld Place?" Harry asked.

"For now," Tonks replied. "I keep meaning to get a flat somewhere, but there's hardly ever time to look."

"By the way, Harry," Hermione said suddenly. "Madam Rosmerta asked us to invite you to the grand re-opening at the Three Broomsticks next week."

"Next week?" Aidan asked in surprise. Hermione nodded.

"Now that Honeydukes is back open, everyone else is itching to get things back to normal," she said. "It's become sort of a contest."

Harry's response to this was a noncommittal sort of shrug. Aidan recognized it as a prelude to either stony silence or one of Harry's outbursts so, instead of asking about Fred and George's efforts to acquire Zonko's old shop, he came up with a decidedly Muggle distraction.

"Anybody want to play cards? I've been teaching Harry poker."

"Ooh, I love poker!" Tonks exclaimed. Everyone else looked at her in surprise. "What? Sirius taught me. He was bloody good at it. Used to love to beat the pants off me—literally, when it was strip poker."

Harry stared at her. "You and Sirius played…"

"Only when we were drunk enough to think it was a good idea," Tonks replied, oblivious to the look of horror on Harry's face. "Sirius could really pack it away, you know, but after a couple bottles of firewhisky, he couldn't tell an ace from a two and I'd have the game in the bag."

At this point, Harry had his hands over his eyes and was making theatrical groaning sounds, and Aidan was trying very hard not to laugh. Hermione and Neville were looking at each other as if they couldn't decide whether to be amused or mortified.

"Are we betting?" Harry asked from behind his hands as Aidan got up to get the cards. Aidan glanced back at the table and considered the confused look that crossed Neville's face before replying.

"Sure, but let's not use any real money just yet. I don't want Tonks cleaning any of us out."

Tonks grinned, and Aidan went about finding something usable for betting in lieu of actual money. He ended up unearthing some popcorn and biscuits from the cabinets and a bag of chocolates from the fridge. He put them on the table and started to run down the betting rules as he shuffled the cards.

"Okay," he said, "first game is five cards, popcorn ante—"

"What's an auntie?" asked Neville, now hopelessly lost.

"I'll teach you," Tonks offered. Neville gave her a look of grateful relief as he picked up his cards.

"Any limits on who can open?" Hermione asked.

"Ah, so you _do _know how to play," Aidan said with a chuckle. "And no. Let's at least try to give Harry and Neville a fighting chance."

Much to everyone's surprise, after Tonks had coached him through a few games, Neville began quite a winning streak. Aidan, Hermione, and Harry laughingly attributed it to beginner's luck, but the truth was that Neville was wiping the floor with them. By the time Aidan's parents got home, he had managed to win most of the impromptu betting chips and was on his way to completely cleaning everyone out.

"I'll see your biscuit and raise you a chocolate," he was saying as Joe Winterton came into the kitchen.

"Too rich for my blood," Aidan said, folding his hand. Harry and Hermione had folded before the betting had gotten serious.

"You're bluffing," Tonks said to Neville. She tossed two chocolates into the pile. "I'll see your chocolate and raise you one."

"I call," Neville said with an almost gleeful smile as he pushed another chocolate into the pile.

"Oh, you _are _bluffing. Let's see those cards," Tonks chuckled. Neville shrugged, grinned, and spread his cards out on the table. Tonks' mouth dropped open.

"Royal flush?" she exclaimed. "No fair! I only have a full house!"

"Anybody want to play for real money now?" Neville asked as he collected the sizeable pot that had grown in the middle of the table.

"No way!" Aidan laughed as he gathered up the cards. "Do you think we're bloody stupid? You've got us beat."

"At least give me a chance to win a chocolate or two back," Tonks said. "I'd like to have _something _to show for this game, plus Remus would appreciate it." She gave the empty space on the table in front of her a critical look. "Of course, I need something to bet with…"

"Don't look at me; Neville's got most of it," Aidan said with a grin. Tonks began to pat her pockets.

"I know I've got something…ah!" She tossed a packet of Every Flavor Beans on the table. "That ought to be worth a biscuit or two. And I think I also have…yes, four sickles, three Ice Mice, and a dung bomb."

"Is that one of Fred and George's?" Harry asked as Tonks emptied the items out of her pockets.

"It sure is," Tonks replied. "Finest kind."

"That's worth a couple chocolates, at least," Aidan remarked, though he was wary of having the thing sitting in the middle of the kitchen table.

"What _are _you kids doing?" Joe Winterton asked, sounding amused.

Getting our butts kicked, currently," Aidan replied, laughing again. "Neville's a natural at this."

"I have a feeling even Sirius would've thrown in the towel at this point," Tonks muttered. Louder, she asked, "Can I bet with the beans individually?"

"As long as none of them are really nasty," Harry was the one to reply. "Last time I had a bag of those, I got a liver-flavored one."

"Gotcha," Tonks nodded and started weeding out the most suspicious-looking beans.

Joe Winterton watched them play part of another hand before wandering out of the kitchen, probably driven off by the confusion that ensued when Tonks tried to bet a sickle against a chocolate and Hermione started doing wizard-to-Muggle money conversion on a used napkin.

Eventually, Tonks won back enough chocolate to be satisfied, and she, Neville, and Hermione said their goodbyes. As Aidan and Harry cleaned up the remaining mess and set the table, Aidan noted that the upbeat afternoon seemed to have done Harry some good.

* * *

Harry's good mood remained, which was just as well since people continued to show up at the house unannounced.

Molly and Arthur Weasley stopped by the following morning with a batch of Molly's cookies, which didn't make it past lunch. A few hours later, McGonagall and Hagrid showed up to see how Harry and Aidan were getting on, and Hestia Jones interrupted dinner that evening with a report on the conditions of Diagon Alley and Hogsmede.

Since Harry at least acted like none of this bothered him, Aidan smiled and was polite to everyone who came to the door. But truth be told, he was starting to get a little annoyed. Nearly everything that was said on these visits could just as easily have been said in letters, and would have been much less intrusive that way. Aidan could understand the concern that radiated off everyone when they spoke to Harry but, by the time Hestia showed up, he was beginning to get the feeling that the Order was checking up on him, and he found it irritating. He was perfectly capable of keeping an eye on Harry if need be, and if anyone else wanted to know how Harry was doing, all they had to do was ask.

He didn't say anything about it, though. Now and always, Aidan knew he was supposed to be the calm one, and allowing himself to get angry would only undermine any efforts to get the Order to back off.

His patience was put to the test the next day. Harry had gone out to the movies with Hermione—another firmly Muggle activity that Hermione had suggested during the poker game—so Aidan had the house to himself. He was attempting to relax and do a little reading when someone knocked at the door.

He contemplated ignoring it. His parents were at work, so nobody would be looking for them at the house. Remus always rang the doorbell, Harry had a key, and Hermione was with Harry. Aidan didn't particularly want to see or deal with anyone else at the moment. He went back to reading.

The knock came again, more insistent this time, and Aidan caught a gust of impatience from whoever was at the door. With a sigh, he set his book aside and went to see who it was.

To his complete surprise and annoyance, it was Moody. Aidan almost didn't open the door, but he had a feeling that Moody wouldn't hesitate to blow it down if he felt it was necessary. With gritted teeth behind his calm expression, Aidan swung the door open.

"Took yeh long enough," was Moody's greeting.

"Was there something you wanted?" Aidan said mildly.

"Just checkin' up on Harry," Moody replied. His magical eye swiveled disconcertingly, and Aidan got the impression that he was surveying the house.

"He's doing just fine," Aidan told him. "He's also not here."

The magical eye snapped back into alignment and glared at Aidan along with the real one. "Yer lettin' him go gallivantin' off by himself?"

"Of course not," Aidan replied, aggravation creeping into his voice. "He's with Hermione. They're in Muggle space, for God's sake."

"Don't you take that tone with me, boy," Moody growled.

For the second time in as many weeks, Aidan felt the snap inside that indicated someone had pushed him too far. On the rare occasions that this happened somewhere like university, he would simply smile and walk away. But with Moody right in front of him, treating him like a stupid child and prying around with that disturbing magical eye, Aidan found it incredibly hard to keep himself under control. He took a deep breath and stepped back.

"I think we'd better talk in here," he said. Moody looked a bit surprised, but he came into the house without question. Aidan rounded on him as soon as the door was shut.

"Let's get a couple of things straight," he said quietly, his tone indicating that things were not going to go well if Moody kept up the nasty attitude. "First off, I'm not a boy. Second, it's not your job to show up at my door like some deranged watchdog and try to determine how well I'm looking after Harry. I invited him to stay here because he's my brother and he needs a break from being The Boy Who Lived. I don't mind it when Remus and Tonks or Hermione and Neville come over, but when people I barely know turn up outside my door and start asking all sorts of nosy questions about Harry's mental state, it gets just a bit annoying. If there's something going on that I should know about, please enlighten me, but if not, you can go straight back to the Order and tell them that if any one of them comes here without warning again, I swear I'll call the police."

Instead of getting angry or defensive as Aidan had been expecting, Moody grinned.

"Well, I'll be damned," he said. "I didn't believe it when Remus said yeh had spunk."

Aidan stared at him. "You were _testing _me?"

"Me? Nah, I don't bother with that rubbish," Moody shook his head. "I always thought you were a bit of a pansy, that's all."

Aidan rolled his eyes. "Gee, thanks."

"I'll tell yeh this much, though," Moody went on, ignoring him. "If yer not worried about Harry, yeh should be. Don't it strike yeh a bit odd that he's wastin' so much energy pretendin' nothing's wrong?"

"Well, yes, frankly," Aidan replied. "But seeing as I don't share your passion for paranoia, I don't think it's a problem. Denial _is _normal after something like what he went through."

"Do yeh even really know what he went through?" Moody asked.

"Do you?" Aidan countered. Moody grinned a wry, knowing grin.

"I thought so," he said. He turned to leave, then paused, and Aidan could tell that he was looking back with the magical eye. "Think about it," he added before disappearing out the door.

Aidan waited until he was absolutely sure that Moody wouldn't be able to see him before shuddering. He hated to admit it, but the man had a point. He stood for a moment, staring vaguely at the door, before going and writing a note to Remus.

_Dad,_

_ I need to talk to you, if you're up to it. Nothing urgent; there are just a few things going on that are starting to bother me. Can you meet me at the corner coffee shop tomorrow around lunchtime?_

_ - Aidan  
_

* * *

**Next chapter:** Remus and Aidan discuss Harry's mental state, and the Weasley family gathers for Ron's funeral. 


	6. Decisions and a Funeral

**Author's Note: **Sorry this is so short. It took me a while to find the groove of this chapter, and in doing so I realized that a lot of what I wanted to put in it really belongs in the next one. So there's more coming, I promise! XD

And a big OOPS that I just noticed this morning...I messed up Maria Winterton's name in this chapter. I have an original story with someone named Mary in it, and for some reason, I always switch the two names around in my mind. It's fixed now. :)

* * *

**Chapter 5 – Decisions and a Funeral**

It was with a wave of relief that Aidan went to meet Remus at the local coffeehouse. It was Saturday, his parents were home, and he really didn't want o be around if the Order decided not to take his warning seriously and sent someone else over to the house.

"I'll be home for dinner," he told his parents before getting in the car and driving into town. Harry was in one of his sulky moods again and had locked himself in his bedroom.

The coffeehouse was actually a combination coffeehouse and bookstore. Downstairs was a classic, old-school coffee shop with enough caffeine available to keep all of England awake for a month, and upstairs was a comfortable little bookstore with a reading room, café tables, and a nice view of the town through a picture window at the back.

The barista most often behind the counter when Aidan went there was young, bubbly, and extremely Scottish. She favored fishnet and t-shirts with slogans on them, and had parts of her face pierced that most normal people wouldn't even contemplate. Today, the stud in her nose was red and one of her lip rings had a little silvery skull on it. She grinned when Aidan walked in.

"What ho, kiddo," she greeted him. She had a habit of calling everyone "kid" or "kiddo" even if they were twice her age. "The usual today?"

Aidan nodded. "Please."

As the whoosh of the espresso machine started, the door opened behind Aidan and Remus came in. Unlike wizards who were less familiar with the Muggle world, he knew how to dress to blend in. It helped that he always looked comfortable, although Aidan had to admit it was strange to see him looking comfortable and Muggle at the same time.

"Hi Dad."

"Hi Aidan," Remus smiled a bit as he returned the greeting. "How are you doing? You sounded kind of harassed in your letter."

Aidan found himself laughing. Remus was the first person all week who had inquired about his well-being before Harry's. In fact, Remus was one of the few people who seemed to even remember he was a person rather than Harry's babysitter. Remus seemed puzzled by this reaction and Aidan shook his head.

"I'm all right," he said as the barista came back with his drink. She caught sight of Remus as Aidan was paying and chuckled.

"Well, bloody hell, you two could be twins, couldn't ya?" she remarked. To Remus, she added, "What can I get for ya?"

"If you don't want to be bouncing off the walls, just go coffee," Aidan advised, trying not to start laughing again.

Once Remus had obtained a relatively low-caffeine beverage, he and Aidan went to sit at one of the café tables up in the bookshop.

"Interesting place," Remus commented as they sat. Aidan nodded.

"This is where Hermione and I come to open mike nights sometimes," he said. "I like it. It's…different. Eclectic, really."

"It is," Remus chuckled. "Tonks would probably love it."

"Probably," Aidan agreed. "Though I don't think I'd want to see Tonks on caffeine." He took a sip of coffee, his face growing serious. "Dad, I'm really worried about Harry."

"What's wrong with him?" Remus asked, his forehead creasing in concern.

"Most of the time, nothing, and that's what has me worried," Aidan replied. "I don't expect him to be well-adjusted or anything, but when he's in a good mood, he acts like the battle never happened. Sometimes it's almost like he wants to forget the wizarding world even exists. On the random occasion that he has one of his mood swings, I can't get a coherent word out of him. I've pretty much been alternating between being his companionable older brother and his punching bag."

"Punching bag?" Remus said in surprise.

"Well, verbally anyway," Aidan clarified. "He either tells me to leave him alone, stop trying to help him, or bugger off. One day when he was being particularly pleasant, he told me to drop dead."

Remus frowned a bit. "And that didn't bother you?"

Aidan shrugged. "What's the point in letting it if it's not really directed at me? Anyway, a couple hours later, he was the total opposite. No apology, nothing. He just went back to acting like everything was fine." He tugged on his ponytail pensively and added, "I wish the Order would stop coming to check on him. They're making it worse. Harry acts like he's okay with it, but I don't think he is."

"He can't live in denial forever," Remus pointed out.

"I hope not," Aidan said. "It's getting tiring. I'm running out of ways to explain his moods to my parents that don't involve lying outright."

"I'm a little surprised that you haven't just told them the whole story yet," Remus said. "I know how much lying bothers you."

Aidan chuckled. "We've had this conversation before. Remember the time I tried to explain the internet to Arthur Weasley?" Remus nodded. "Well, explaining the wizarding world to my parents would be worse. It took Mum months to stop screaming every time an owl brought the paper. The fact that they don't ask questions about stuff like that means they'd really rather not know."

"Ignorance is bliss," Remus said with a wry smile.

"In their case, I think it's more like mental self-preservation," Aidan replied. "I'm pretty sure at least Mum's brain would short out if I ever went into detail about Harry's life."

Remus laughed a bit. "I see what you mean. No reason to make things more complicated than they already are."

"Exactly. I've got enough on my plate with the Order sending people over whenever they feel like it," Aidan sighed.

"I wonder why I haven't heard about that," Remus said, frowning again. "It doesn't sound like something Minerva would do."

"I'd bet sickles to galleons that Moody has his paranoid hand in it somewhere," Aidan said. "And I bet you haven't heard about it because Harry's not the only one they're checking up on."

"What?" Remus asked, surprised.

"I've been watching the emotions of everyone who shows up," Aidan explained. "If Moody knew me better, he would have thought of that. It's all plain as day to me. They're concerned, all right, but there's an edge to it. It's like…like when you've just sharpened a knife and are being careful not to cut yourself on it. It's a sort of midnight purple color; Dumbledore had it all the time."

"What does it mean?" Remus asked. His eyebrows were drawn so far together that they were in danger of disappearing into each other.

"It means they're being cautious," Aidan replied. "Harry's only half their worry. If I'm reading it right, they also want to make sure that I'm doing a good job of looking after him. They're starting to think that I might not be a good enough babysitter."

There was more venom in his tone than he's intended. Remus was looking at him with growing concern.

"You're really convinced of that, aren't you," he said quietly. It wasn't a question.

"It's what I am to them, Dad," Aidan sighed again. "It's what I've been since you first brought me to Grimmauld Place two years ago. It's how most of the wizards and witches I've met see me; I'm Harry Potter's brother, always calm in a crisis, the go-to guy if Harry's having trouble dealing with life."

"I've never heard you talk like this."

"I hardly ever even _think _like this, but lately," Aidan glanced out the window before turning back to Remus, looking grave. "Lately, and don't tell anyone I said this, I'm starting to understand how Ron used to feel. You know how, once in a while, he'd be in a mood and complain about Harry always being in the spotlight, and of course Hermione would tell him he was being silly? I think I know what he meant. The problem isn't necessarily that Harry is who he is, but that hardly anybody sees him any other way. People get blinded by the 'Boy Who Lived' title and it blots out everyone around him. So it was never 'Harry and Ron' to them; Ron was always 'Harry Potter's best friend'.

"It's the same with me. I don't really _resent_ it as such, but it's a little annoying to have a function rather than a name or a personality. Everyone expects me to know how to fix things when Harry hits a rough patch, and when I don't, they start questioning my reliability. It's like I'm some kind of machine that they're afraid is going to break down when they need it. The only people who haven't treated me like that lately were the people I met in Diagon Alley. Frankly, I'm a little sick of it."

"It isn't really fair for people to expect so much of you," Remus said slowly, "or to take your presence for granted. I never intended that to be the case, but I'm afraid the circumstances in which you were introduced into Harry's life stuck in everyone's minds. You _do_ have the ability to calm him down when nobody else can."

"Only if I can actually tell what's going on," Aidan replied. "I can't get inside his head if he won't admit to himself that there's something wrong, and so far all I'm getting from him is emotional white noise."

Remus shook his head. "If he's like that now, I can only imagine what Ron's funeral is going to do to him."

"Well, it depends," Aidan smiled wryly. "If Ron's funeral is about a hundred years from now, he might be okay." He saw the strange look Remus was giving him and raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"Ron's funeral is tomorrow afternoon," said Remus. "Harry didn't even tell you that?"

"First I've heard of it," Aidan said, a bit taken aback. "In fact, he hasn't said a word about Ron yet, but I can't imagine he's in so much denial that he's convinced himself the funeral isn't happening."

"If he has, then it's worse than any of us imagined," Remus said quietly.

They lapsed into silence. After a while, Remus set down his empty coffee cup and said,

"They moved Draco Malfoy into the long-term resident's ward at St. Mungo's. They're worried about his mental state."

"That doesn't bode well. No idea yet what made him switch sides?" Aidan asked, frowning a bit. He had never met the Malfoys, but he had a pretty good idea of what the family was like from some of the things Harry had said in the past.

"No specific answer, but we're beginning to get some rather morbid pieces of the puzzle," Remus replied. "Kingsley told me that they found Draco's father, or what was left of him, in the rubble during cleanup in Hogsmede the other day. That made people realize that nobody's heard a thing from his mother, and she's the type that should have at least tried to get into see Draco at St. Mungo's by now."

Aidan could see where this was going and didn't like it. "She's dead, too, isn't she."

Remus nodded gravely. "A couple of people went to the Malfoy mansion to check if she might be laying low there, and they ended up finding her body. She'd been dead for weeks."

"That's horrible," Aidan shuddered. "So now Draco is stuck in a psych ward and essentially alone in the world?"

"Pretty much all of his relatives are either dead, in Ministry custody, or missing," Remus replied. "Not a very stable family, I'm afraid. But regardless of who they are, or were, nobody deserves the hand Draco's been dealt."

"The casualties of war rarely do," Aidan murmured, looking out the window. Then he sighed. "I think I'd better head home."

"All right," Remus nodded. "You know you can owl me if you need me for anything."

Aidan gave him a grateful half-smile. "Thanks, Dad."

* * *

Harry didn't come out of his bedroom at all that evening, or the next morning. Joe and Maria Winterton began to get worried looks, but Aidan suspected that Harry did indeed remember that Ron's funeral was looming and was probably trying to avoid, or perhaps prepare himself for, the emotional turmoil that would inevitably result.

Aidan was not surprised when a knock on the door came early Sunday afternoon. When he answered it, he was met by the sight of most of the Weasley family, all dressed in black. Molly was already dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief, and Arthur was patting her comfortingly on the arm. Even Fred and George, looking extremely uncomfortable in what appeared to be new dress robes, lacked their usual upbeat air. Ginny stood nearby, her face carefully impassive.

Aidan just stood and looked at them all for a moment, unsure of what to say and very glad that his parents were out shopping and therefore not around to ask him why there was a gaggle of red-headed mourners on the doorstep. Funeral or no, Harry still wasn't showing any indication of coming out of his room, and trying to make him would likely cause a scene. As he was trying to find appropriate words for the situation, Fred and George broke the silence.

"What ho, Aidan," said one.

"Is the illustrious Mr. Potter ready to be whisked off to the final pomp and circumstance in memory of our dear Ronnikins?" asked the other.

"Fred! George!" Molly exclaimed, sounding mortified, but Aidan just chuckled.

"It's all right, Molly. I think Harry's getting ready," he said. _I _hope _he's getting ready_, his thoughts added.

"You're quite welcome to come, you know," Arthur said. "Ron spoke very highly of you."

"Except when you beat him at chess," added one of the twins.

"George!" Molly admonished. George attempted to look embarrassed and failed.

Aidan suppressed a grin and replied, "No disrespect meant, Arthur, but I'm going to sit this one out. I think this is something Harry ought to do by himself."

As if on cue, a door shut somewhere inside the house and Harry appeared in the hallway a moment later. Aidan had never seen him in dress robes before, and the dark color, combined with the controlled but still fairly morose look on Harry's face, was unsettling. For a brief moment, Aidan wondered how smart it was letting him go off to the funeral alone, but dismissed the thought. He would hardly be alone in the company of the Weasleys, and Hermione would be there, as well. As far as emotional support went, that was more than enough.

Harry didn't say a word as Molly enfolded him in a motherly hug and Fred and George unleashed more of their inappropriate banter. Ginny remained silent, but Aidan didn't miss the wisp of emotion that passed between her and Harry when they caught each other's eye over Molly's shoulder.

"Give everyone my regards," Aidan said as the group prepared to leave.

Arthur nodded. "We will."

"If you need me, you know where I am," Aidan added, trying not to be too obvious about directing the comment at Harry.

His attempt was futile. Harry turned and gave him a look that was exactly the sort of look exasperated teenagers often gave an overprotective parent.

"I'll be fine," he said. Aidan simply nodded in reply, and waved as the Weasley's started off down the walk. A few moments later, just on the edge of hearing, there was a series of muffled cracks that indicated they had found a private enough place from which to Apparate away.

Aidan shut the front door and leaned on it, blowing out a breath. He wasn't entirely sure that Harry would be all right, but Harry hadn't been all right to begin with so it probably didn't make much of a difference. Still, there was an odd feeling in the pit of his stomach that he didn't like at all. He headed off to his bedroom to do some reading, hoping take his mind off the feeling and what Harry was about to go through.

He was about halfway through a paperback he had borrowed from Hermione when he heard the crying. It was faint at first, as if coming from a long way away, and Aidan almost tuned it out as background noise. But it began to grow in volume until it sounded like someone was standing right next to his bed, weeping uncontrollably. Aidan closed the book and sat up very slowly, trying to pinpoint the spot the sound was coming from, but there was no visible source.

What in the world was going on? He had never heard things before, only seen colors, and even then a person had to be present for him to be able to read their emotions that way.

And then, as abruptly as it had started, the noise stopped. Almost simultaneously, the front door slammed. Aidan blinked as footsteps started down the hall, and just barely had the presence of mind to get up and stick his head out into the hall in time to see Harry disappear into the next bedroom.

"Harry?" he called. No response. After the crying, the silence was almost deafening. Aidan went down the hall and tapped softly on Harry's door. "Harry, I know you probably don't want me bugging you, but if you want to talk or anything—"

"Leave me alone," Harry snapped from inside the room. Aidan sighed.

"Suit yourself. I'm just trying to help."

"Do me a favor and bloody well stop trying," Harry shot back. Aidan opened his mouth to retort, but decided against it. There was no use arguing, and the cloud of deep blue emotion that was leaking out from under the door was a tell-tale sign of someone who meant it when he said he wanted to be alone. So he headed back to his room, although, when the real crying started, it was very hard to pretend that he didn't hear.

* * *

When Maria and Joe Winterton got back from their shopping trip, they didn't ask any questions. Aidan could tell even without the aid of emotional colors that they wanted to know, _desperately _wanted to know, why Harry was locked in his room again and why he was occasionally bursting into loud sobs, but they didn't ask.

In fact, they made it a point of not asking. Dinner was filled with their lack of questions, Maria's glances at Harry's vacant spot at the table, and Joe's slow looks at Aidan over the top of his glass. Around the fifth time that Aidan caught such a look, he raised his eyebrows.

"Something you wanted, Dad?"

This caught Joe off-guard. "Er, well…"

"Is Harry all right, dear?" Maria supplied.

"No," said Aidan. There was no reason to lie; it was obvious that Harry was miserable.

"Do you think you ought to go talk to him?" Maria asked.

"No," Aidan repeated. He knew what his mother was really asking, and even though it hadn't been her intention, the hidden meaning hit him like a slap in the face. First the Order started checking up on him, now his own parents were doing it.

"I just thought that maybe you could—" Maria tried again.

"_No_, Mum," Aidan said, more forcibly than he had intended. Seeing Maria's hurt look, he went on, "Harry's not going to listen to me right now. The best any of us can do for him is to let him be for a while."

As if in contradiction of this, a fresh bout of sobbing started up from the direction of Harry's room. Maria and Joe exchanged a glance, and Aidan found that he couldn't take any more of the charged silence. He excused himself, got his keys, and went for a drive.

It had been a long time since he last felt the need to drive as a way to calm himself. He rarely got upset enough at his own family that he had to remove himself from their presence, but knowing that even Maria and Joe were thinking that he could be doing more for Harry was too much.

What did everyone expect of him? What more could he do, short of forcibly trying to cheer Harry up? He had tried to do that two years before, after Sirius's death, and it had very nearly been a disaster. Now…now there was so much more to the equation, so much more in Harry's head that Harry refused to discuss, so much that nobody else knew anything about. Every time Aidan thought about it and tried to come up with a reasonable way to approach it, he felt like he was in way over his head.

Truth be told, he hadn't intended this summer to be a rescue mission. He had invited Harry to stay as a way to keep him out of the burning limelight for a while, nothing more. He hadn't bargained on Harry bringing such a huge load of emotional baggage along, although he knew that the possibility should have occurred to him. But now that the baggage was firmly parked in his house, Aidan knew that _somebody _had to do something about it, and that somebody was going to have to be him whether he liked it or not.

He found that he had driven himself to the coffee shop without thinking. Still feeling somewhat preoccupied, Aidan parked the car and went in, figuring that as long as he was here he might as well get a drink.

The pierced barista was behind the counter again, and she gave Aidan a playful grin when he ordered the same thing he had gotten the previous day.

"Two big hits o' caffeine in as many days, eh?" she said as she worked the espresso machine. "Somethin' been botherin' ya?"

Aidan stared at her for a moment, then started to laugh.

"What hasn't?" he managed after a moment. The barista grinned.

"Don't suppose you want to talk about it to a stranger?" she asked, sliding his drink across the counter. Aidan paid her and took the coffee, sipping it thoughtfully.

"You know," he said, "I might."

An hour and one heavily-edited explanation later, the barista was nodding in sympathy and Aidan felt like a great weight had been lifted off him. Talking to Remus had helped a little, but having someone who was entirely detached from the situation and able to give and objective opinion was nothing short of a godsend.

"The way I see it," the barista said as she twiddled a star-shaped stud in her earlobe, "you can only take so much. I'd have called it quits a long time ago. No matter what anyone _expects _of ya, it's up to you to do what ya know _needs _to be done."

"Can't please everyone," Aidan murmured, nodding.

"You go it, kiddo."

Aidan smiled a bit. "Thanks. And my name's Aidan."

The barista grinned again. "No problem. I'm Ainsley."

Aidan left the coffeehouse feeling lighter than he had in two weeks. When he got home, he ignored the questioning looks from his parents and went straight to his room, all the while reflecting on what Ainsley had said. And as he lay in bed later that night, listening to Harry crying in the next room, he suddenly knew what he had to do.


	7. I Don’t Know What Color

**Author's Note:** Less than a week before the 7th book release is probably not the best time to go writing a final battle description, but I did it anyway. XD Unfortunately, I don't think I'll be able to finish the story as a whole before the book comes out, but I hope you'll all stick with me. Thanks very much for your reviews so far!

* * *

**Chapter 6 – I Don't Know What Color is On These Walls, But It Looks Like it Hit the Fan First**

Aidan didn't get up the next morning until well after his adoptive parents had left for work. He had a laid-back morning; he poured himself a cup of coffee, read the _Daily Prophet _when it came, and went to the store to pick up a few odds and ends, all the while completely ignoring the fact that Harry was still being a recluse.

It occurred to him that this was the first worry-free personal time he'd had in two years. He had never realized how much he worried about Harry, that he never really _stopped _worrying regardless of what was actually going on. The safety and well-being of his half-brother dominated a spot in the back of his mind, always there, always ticking away whether or not he was consciously paying attention. The sudden lack of it created an amazing mental quiet, and Aidan found himself being able to see some things clearly for the first time. That afternoon, he went down the hall and knocked on the door to Harry's room.

"Hey Harry, you awake?"

There was a pause, then a tentative response of, "Yeah."

"Can I come in?"

"I guess."

Harry was sitting on the bed, staring at the wall. Aidan went and sat down next to him, and the two of them sat in silence for a while before Harry said,

"What do you want?"

Aidan sighed. This was not going to be easy.

"I want you to knock off this hiding," he replied as gently as he could. "You need to talk to someone, Harry, and since I'm here it might as well be me. I know it's only been a couple of weeks since the battle and yesterday was rough on you, but sitting around isn't going to help you heal."

"I just want some time alone," said Harry.

"And I can't blame you for that, but it's getting a little silly. You've barely left the house in the past two weeks, you're not eating and, from the look of it, you're not sleeping, either. Something's got to give at some point, and it would be a lot better for you if you had control over what that something is."

"How many times have I told you that I don't need your help?" Harry snapped, finally taking his eyes off the wall and glaring at Aidan. Aidan shook his head.

"That's not going to work this time," he countered. "I've left you to yourself and kept other people off your case for two weeks. If you didn't need help, you wouldn't still be locking yourself in your room."

"And since when did you become a psychologist?" Harry demanded.

"I don't have to be one to know that you're being ridiculous," said Aidan, trying to keep his voice level. "Even my parents, who are as unobservant and Muggle as it gets, can tell there's something wrong. It's only a matter of time before Mum starts asking bigger questions than, 'Is Harry all right?' And trust me, you really don't want her fussing over you."

"Then why don't you just tell her that I'm _fine_?" Harry snapped.

"Because you're _not_," Aidan shot back. "People who are fine don't have the kind of mood swings you've been having. They don't shut themselves in their bedroom for days on end. You're only shooting yourself in the foot by shunning the help people want to give you."

"Did it ever occur to you that I don't want help?" Harry exclaimed, jumping to his feet. "That nobody else can possibly understand what I'm going through?"

"Oh no," Aidan shook his head again and stood up, as well. "Don't try that. Don't even _think_ about trying that. That is the single worst excuse in the known universe, and I won't accept it."

"Then get out," Harry hissed.

"No," Aidan folded his arms and stood his ground.

"Do I need to draw you a bloody map? The door's right over there. Leave me the hell alone."

"_No_," Aidan repeated. "This is _stupid_, Harry. I'm not letting you do this any more."

Harry grit his teeth. "I swear, if I had a wand—"

"You'd do what? Attack an unarmed Squib? Apparate somewhere?" Aidan demanded, raising an eyebrow.

Harry's response was unexpected. He drew back a fist, took an inexpert swing, and punched Aidan in the mouth. Aidan took a few steps back in surprise, fingering his lip as blood began to trickle down his chin. His first reaction, deep down in his gut underneath his natural calmness and his Healer instincts, was wanting to hit Harry back. It was a feeling he'd never had before; he never allowed himself to be in a situation where things could get bad enough to provoke him to violence. For a moment, he just stood and stared at Harry until he was sure that he could speak without giving into the feeling. What came out, though, was still fueled by uncharacteristic anger.

"You," he said, his voice dangerously low, "are an arse. A complete and total arse."

Harry blinked in surprise. "Aidan, I—"

"No, don't even. There was absolutely no reason for that. I don't care how upset you are, I don't care what you've been through; none of it is my fault."

He stormed out of the room and into the kitchen, where he got a paper towel and started cleaning up his lip. He felt rather than heard Harry coming after him in a dusty cloud of regret.

"Look, Aidan, I didn't mean to—"

"Like hell you didn't!" Aidan exclaimed, rounding on him. He hadn't intended this to erupt into an argument, but there was no going back now. "You meant it, all right. I could tell, and you know I could tell. Being sorry after the fact doesn't excuse it."

"It's just that—" Harry tried again.

"You know what it is? You're a brat. You're a stupid, selfish brat, a bloody stick-waving _kid_. The only thing that makes you different from any other stick-waving kid is that thing on your head," Aidan pointed an accusatory finger at the lightning-bolt-shaped scar that was just visible under Harry's unkempt hair. "And you know it, and you milk it for all it's worth. You _say _you don't want to be famous, you _say _you don't want people to worry about you or treat you any differently, but when something serious comes up, you use that scar and all it represents as a bloody shield so you can pretend that nobody else understands. And everybody walks right into it, even people like McGonagall and Moody, who should know better. I finally refuse to keep doing it, and you punch me in the face. Just what exactly does that say about you?"

Harry bristled. "Do I need to remind you how I _got _that scar?"

"No, thank you, the wizarding world does it for me on a regular basis," Aidan snapped. "And I'm sorry. I'm probably more sorry than a lot of people, but you know what, Harry? There are plenty of people in this war who came off worse than you. People who saw their families murdered right in front of their eyes, people whose homes and businesses were completely destroyed, Muggles who got killed for no other reason than the fact that they were Muggles…hundreds and hundreds of people, Harry. It's _war_, not your personal battle against the universe."

"Voldemort killed my mum and dad!" Harry exclaimed, his voice cracking.

"Lily was my mum, too," Aidan shot back.

"You weren't there!"

"So what?" Aidan shouted. "So bloody what? You were what, fourteen months old? You don't remember, not really. All you know is what you've been told, what you've come across. It was horrible, I don't deny that, but you can't keep using it as an excuse to walk all over people. We all have our load to bear; being the Boy Who Lived is yours, and if you need help, you should bloody well ask for it rather than pretending you're some damn great hero who has to walk alone."

"What the hell do you know about it?" Harry yelled. "Here you are with your happy little adoptive family andyour dad and your life at university. You move between the Muggle and wizarding worlds like it's as simple as changing your socks! You have no bloody idea what hardship is!"

"Neither do you," Aidan retorted. "Your aunt and uncle may qualify for the World's Worst Human Beings award, but they hardly count as hardship. And you always had everyone at Hogwarts wrapped around you little finger, whether you knew it or not. You sneeze and a dozen people rush to give you a hanky."

"That's just the short of bullshit Ron used to say!" Harry exclaimed. "He never understood, and neither do you! What do you know about staring down death? How can you have any idea what it's like to look into the eyes of someone like Voldemort and know it's your life or his?"

"If you insist on playing that card, I have no problem upping the ante," Aidan said coolly. "True, I've never been face-to-face with that kind of evil, but you've never walked into a room and been able to read everyone's emotions like some kind of infrared map. I don't choose to do that; it just happens, and I see _everything_, good and bad. You wouldn't want to know about some of the things I've come across, the feelings and colors that make me want to be sick. You've never held someone's hand and seen what broken bones and ruptured organs look like from the inside. So no, I don't understand all of your pain, but there's a lot about me that you don't get, either."

"I don't have to listen to this," Harry snapped, turning on his heel.

"Fine, good, turn your back. Run away, shut out the world. But when that finally fails you, don't expect me to pick up the pieces."

Harry's eyes narrowed. "Go to hell."

"And share your self-inflicted misery?" Aidan raised an eyebrow sarcastically. "No thanks."

"Screw you!" Harry shouted. "Screw you and your psychological shit! I don't care what you say; you will never, _ever _understand what happened to me!"

"Maybe I could try if you'd stop whining long enough to enlighten me!" Aidan snapped. "What the hell is so bad that you'd rather pretend that the world you've lived in for the last seven years doesn't exist? Do you actually have a real excuse for behaving like a jerk this time?"

"I wanted to kill him!" The words erupted from Harry's mouth at the same time that the front door opened and shut. Aidan only half-noticed it; the exclamation and the sudden tears filling Harry's eyes caught him completely off-guard.

"What?"

"Voldemort! I bloody well wanted him dead!" Harry's voice cracked as the tears spilled over. "I didn't care about what getting rid of him would do for anyone else. I just wanted him to suffer!"

"What in the _world_ is going on in here?" a voice demanded suddenly. Aidan looked up to find Joe Winterton standing in the doorway, his expression stuck somewhere between baffled and annoyed.

"We're having a fight," Aidan replied, trying to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. Now that he'd allowed himself to get upset, it was proving difficult to calm down.

Joe frowned. "What happened to your mouth?"

"Harry hit me."

"I think one of you ought to give me an explanation as to how this started," Joe said quietly, his tone suggesting that, whatever the explanation was, it had better be a good one.

Aidan and Harry looked at each other, forgetting their dispute for a moment. There was no easy way to answer, and they both knew it. Finally, Aidan said,

"Later, Dad? I think Harry and I need to talk first. Then I'll explain things to you; Mum, too, when she gets home."

Joe continued to frown for a moment before nodding in consent and, much to Aidan's relief, leaving the kitchen. Once he was out of earshot, Aidan turned to Harry.

"You want to talk about it?" he asked quietly. Harry nodded and collapsed into a chair at the table, putting his head in his hands. For lack of anything better do, Aidan started making a pot of tea.

Once the tea was on the table, the story of the battle and the events that led up to it poured from Harry as if the fight with Aidan had destroyed whatever mental dam he had built to hold it in. He spoke haltingly at first, but as he went on he didn't seem able to stop until everything was told.

It seemed that the year at Hogwarts was spent as much preparing for what everyone knew would come as it was on academics. McGonagall, in her position as headmistress, managed to work around the Ministry of Magic and get several members of the Order in to teach comprehensive Defense Against the Dark Arts classes. Homework was almost completely suspended with in favor of dueling practice and rigorous tactical lessons. The students that didn't scoff or complain were wary of the fact that everyone, including those who may turn out to be on the other side when the chips were down, was getting the same training.

The closer the end of the year got, the more on edge everyone became. Fights broke out, usually instigated by cocky purebloods who thought they knew everything, and several of the more persistent ones seemed to want to settle the battle before it even started. McGonagall hesitated to expel anyone for fear that they or those around them would end up in more danger than if she just kept them in school. So tempers continued to flare, tension ran high, and the inner workings of both Hogwarts and the Order grew more and more anxious as it became clear that there was no definite way to know exactly what was coming.

It started, as many such things did, with something small, more felt than seen; the sense that something was out of place, the pricking of the hairs on the back of the neck when walking down an empty hallway, the desire to follow the rules and stay in at night no matter how interesting the school grounds seemed. Harry wasn't the only one to feel it. Hermione and Ron picked up on it, too, as did Neville and several others that the trio often spent time with. Those who had called themselves Dumbledore's Army two years previously started to unconsciously draw together, never going anywhere without the accompaniment of at least one other member. They watched each other's backs without being asked and without really knowing what they were watching for, operating on the distinct impression that it was best not to be alone if they could help it.

Then the death tolls started to rise. Strange deaths, apparently with no pattern or discrimination: anonymous hags, wandering Muggles, independent vendors in Diagon Alley, and even one or two prominent shopkeepers from the much darker Knockturn Alley. All that could be said about them was that they apparently displeased Voldemort in some way, and that only made the tension in the wizarding community worse. If the Death Eaters were beginning to pick off even those who were purported to be their own, how could anyone hold onto even the illusion of safety?

Members of the Order started pulling double duty, working overtime trying to gather any information that might help curb the intensity of Voldemort's silent siege. Their hope was that, in doing so, they might be able to prevent the final confrontation from being something cataclysmic.

Seeing this, many people close to the Order started to get antsy, Ron most of all. He never would have admitted it to anyone, but Harry and Hermione knew him well enough to be able to tell that he was scared to death for the safety of his family and friends, and it bothered him that he was just, as he put it, sitting on his arse at Hogwarts, messing about and not accomplishing anything. Many times, he appealed to the Order for some way to help, only to be told that he was safer at Hogwarts. This only compounded his frustration and led to him being in a dark, rebellious mood for quite a while.

Finally, though, with the Order stretched thin and the sparse information they were gathering becoming more and more confusing, Ron was allowed to become a messenger of sorts. Nobody wanted him to do it, Molly being the most vocal of all, but there was no alternative. The Order couldn't spare anyone and, of the other students who knew about the Order, most were too frightened or unprepared to take on any sort of dangerous work.

Hermione, too, was stretched thin. What little free time her continuing dedication to school offered her was taken up by being an involuntary consultant to the Order. Her proficiency with and knowledge of spells far beyond her level led them to ask her questions about things that they didn't have time to research, and she was whisked off to 12 Grimmauld Place for that reason more and more often as things began to heat up.

And then, near the end of the year, all hell broke loose. Small groups of Death Eaters attacked Diagon Alley and Hogsmede first in what seemed like an attempt to draw forces away from Hogwarts and, for a while, it didn't work. Through his magical connection with Voldemort, Harry knew that the Dark Lord wanted a personal fight and would come to him wherever he was. McGonagall refused to let that be anywhere other than Hogwarts since, despite the previous year's break in security, it was still a fortress and one of the safest places for anyone to be during a battle. Thus, those who were stationed to defend the school stayed there, resolute in their task.

Then the forces in Diagon Alley and Hogsmede started to fail, and panic began to creep into Hogwarts. If either place fell to the Death Eaters, there was a very good chance it would never be reclaimed. Reluctantly, several members of the Order—Kingsley and Moody among them—left the school to aid in the distant defenses.

It only took a couple of hours for communication between Hogwarts and the rest of the wizarding world to become almost nonexistent. In those couple of hours, though, what news that came wasn't good. The Death Eaters were quickly laying siege to the most vulnerable parts of Hogsmede and Diagon Alley, and people were fleeing for their lives in droves.

Molly Weasley, who at that point had been with Arthur in Hogsmede, sent urgent word that she wanted Ron relieved of his messenger duties as soon as possible. But unbeknownst to her and everyone else, Ron had already been ambushed by a group of Death Eaters on his way to Hogwarts from Diagon Alley. Being unable to Apparate straight into the grounds left him vulnerable; being alone had only made it worse and, ultimately, resulted in his death. Efforts to locate him were stopped before they started when Voldemort himself arrived on the school grounds.

At that point, Harry did the only thing he knew how to do: he went out to meet Voldemort head-on. As soon as he did, Death Eaters closed in on Hogwarts, effectively preventing anyone coming to his aid. After that, things were…fuzzy. The battle from there on out, at least for Harry and Voldemort, was ninety percent mental, putting a sort of haze between them and the rest of the fighting, and Harry couldn't properly remember everything that had gone on outside of their private struggle.

Voldemort had talked to him, laughed at him, taunted him inside his own head, and Harry refused to repeat any of what he'd heard. But whatever it was, it only served to fuel his desire to be rid of Voldemort and add the intense, unfamiliar feeling of wanting the Dark Lord to suffer. The feeling triggered a kind of focus in his mind and, for the first time during the battle, he was able to think straight.

He couldn't explain what happened next. He remembered feeling as though all the negative emotions that had been building were coming to a point and, without thinking, he centered that point inside himself, waved his wand, and directed the resulting torrent at Voldemort. He remembered screaming something, too, but it was no spell he'd learned in school. It felt ancient in a way, and it was certainly powerful. The effort of it drained much of Harry's energy and he sank to his knees, afraid that he wouldn't be able to defend himself when Voldemort decided to strike back.

But Voldemort didn't strike back. Whatever Harry had done stunned or incapacitated the him in some way, and for a moment all the Dark Lord did was stand still, looking dumbfounded.

And then he exploded. It wasn't a normal explosion, but a magical one, which caused Voldemort's body to violently disintegrate into a cloud of dust. At the same time, Harry's wand also exploded, blowing him off his feet. He didn't have time to get up before the dust cloud burst into flames.

Suddenly, he was in the worst pain he'd ever felt in his life. As Voldemort's physical remains burned away, so did all the connections between him and Harry, and Harry could feel the sensation of fire inside his body. He started screaming and didn't stop until the fire went out, at which point he could remember nothing else until he awoke in St. Mungo's several hours later.

At the time, he was in the main part of the Aris McPhreeson ward with some other early casualties of the battle, and a sporadic but continual stream of news poured in the entire time he was there. That was how he learned of Ron's death, though people had tried to keep him from hearing. He heard, too, when everyone thought he was sleeping, the story of how Snape had lost his life.

Apparently, Snape had appeared on the Hogwarts grounds with the rest of the Death Eaters. For some, that was confirmation enough of his treachery, but many had still been unsure of where his loyalties truly lay. It remained unclear which side he was fighting for until near the end of Harry's personal battle with Voldemort.

Several overzealous Death Eaters had spent their time trying to distract Harry or otherwise get his guard down, unaware that Harry and Voldemort weren't paying any attention to the rest of the fight. Some grew impatient and began trying more and more dangerous spells, until their simply being within ten feet of Harry would put his life in danger. Things could have reached a disastrous climax had Snape not stepped in and killed several of the Death Eaters, including the infamous Peter Pettigrew. This move cost him his life, but it took the attention off Harry long enough for Harry to cast the destructive spell on Voldemort.

This fact seemed to be a sticking point for Harry. He didn't seem able to accept that _Snape_, of all people, had bought him critical time.

"If it makes you feel any better, I doubt he did it because he suddenly took a liking to you," Aidan said, trying to be lighthearted.

"He wouldn't have had to do it at all if it hadn't taken me so bloody long to get rid of Voldemort," Harry muttered, rubbing his forehead.

"Harry, it was you versus the greatest evil of the modern wizarding world. Nobody could look at that and think it was easy."

"It's not even that," Harry said. "Yeah, it was hard, but I think…look, I may have won in the end, but the truth is, when it came to skill and power, Voldemort was a better wizard than me."

"He had a lot more practice," Aidan pointed out, raising an eyebrow.

"But I could be better than I am," Harry countered. "I had a lot of uninterrupted time at Hogwarts that I could have been using to actually _learn_ something, but you were right about what you said. I spent too much of that time hiding behind the scar and pretending to myself that normal rules didn't apply to me. I'm not really sure what I was thinking. I guess my attitude going into things always was, 'I'm Harry Potter; I'll think of something.' And I didn't listen when people told me that was a stupid way to behave."

"All teenagers think like that," Aidan remarked. Then he frowned. "But that's the thing about being who you are, isn't it? You couldn't afford the time to goof off."

Harry nodded. "Exactly. I goofed off like a normal kid even though I knew I had a serious responsibility creeping up on me, and I could have died—I could have _failed_—because of that."

"And this is what you've been torturing yourself with."

"It's kind of hard to ignore," Harry sighed. "Everyone's thought I was some kind of hero since I was a year old; they're still thinking it, and it's still not true. My lot in life was chosen for me, and I never really learned how to deal with it."

Aidan sat back and shook his head, chuckling a little. "Neville was right; there's no such thing as normality when it comes to things like this," he sighed. "I have no idea how I'm going to explain everything to Mum and Dad. I'm not even sure how much I'm allowed to tell them. There's some wizarding law about that sort of thing, isn't there?"

"The Code of Secrecy, yeah," Harry chewed his bottom lip thoughtfully. "Although, they already know you get most of your mail by owl and that they can't call you whenever you're out visiting me or Remus. I think you'll be fine as long as you don't go giving them a lot of specific details."

Aidan nodded, then laughed again. "I don't think the Ministry knows I exist, anyway."

"They wouldn't acknowledge a Squib with powers if one bit them on the arse," Harry agreed with a half-smile.

"Then you're right, I ought to be fine." Aidan gave Harry a slow look, trying to assess his emotions without being too invasive. "Is there anything else you want to talk about before Mum gets home?"

Harry blew out a breath, suddenly looking very tired. "No, I don't think so. Er…sorry about your lip."

Aidan ran his thumb carefully over the puffy spot that had formed at the side of his mouth. "Don't worry about it. It'll heal."

Harry laughed. "You're so calm about everything."

Aidan grinned a bit. "You say that even after the fight we just had?"

"Well, I think I've only seen you get angry twice in two years."

"I try not to get upset unless there's really a reason for it," Aidan replied as the front door opened again. "Speaking of…"

"Do you want me to stay here while you talk to them?" Harry asked.

"No," Aidan said slowly. "I think I'd better handle this myself."

"All right," Harry nodded, getting up. In the doorway, he paused and said, "Hey Aidan?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

* * *

**Next Chapter:** Total confusion for the Wintertons, and Harry starts getting his butt back out in the wizarding world where it belongs. 


	8. Taking Initiatives

**Chapter 7 – Taking Initiatives**

There was no easy way to explain things to the Wintertons, so Aidan decided to start small: with the paper.

The _Daily Prophet_ was something that his adoptive parents had expertly ignored every day that he was home for the past two years. They hid behind their own mundane, Muggle newspaper as he read it during breakfast and, if he happened to leave it sitting on the kitchen table, their eyes slid away from it as if it didn't exist, as if they were trying very hard to convince themselves that, despite the evidence, there were no such things as moving photographs and that the headlines didn't carry news of impending conflict and death.

Aidan pushed that day's edition across the table, displaying a headline that read "Ministry Admits Grave Mistakes" above a scowling picture of Rufus Scrimgeour, the Minister of Magic. As usual, Maria and Joe did their best to look anywhere except at the paper.

"I don't see how this explains why you and Harry were hollering at each other," Joe said after a while.

"It explains a lot more than you think," Aidan replied quietly. How was he going to do this? How could he tell his parents about a war that they, and most other Muggles, hadn't even noticed was going on? And how could he say that his own half-brother had been at the crux of it all practically since he was born? He sighed, blowing out a breath between his teeth and toying with his ponytail.

He felt sure that Maria and Joe were expecting him to say that Harry suffered from depression or something equally as normal and Muggle that would explain his behavior in a way they could accept. For a moment, he almost wished he could get off that easily, but he knew himself. All he could do was tell the truth.

He picked up the _Prophet _again and flipped to an interior page that was occasionally home to a column by the infamous Rita Skeeter. A smiling photo of the woman waved from next to the headline, "Boy Who Lived Strangely Elusive!" The article below went on for some length about Harry's continued absence from the spotlight in the wizarding world since the battle had ended.

"See this?" Aidan said, turning it around to show his parents. "This is why Harry's been staying here. This is why we were arguing."

Maria glanced down at the article apprehensively, as if it might jump out of the page and bite her.

"Joe, I'm not sure I like this," she said after a moment.

"I think we'd better let Aidan explain, Maria."

"Thank you," Aidan said. He set the paper aside and rubbed his forehead. "Look, Mum, Dad, Harry's not exactly what most people would call normal. He's had too many responsibilities, and he's been through hell because of them. A lot of people have tried to help him, me included, and the other day everything just kind of…blew up. It's been hard for both of us."

"But why you, son?" Joe asked. "If there were so many other people willing to help…"

"Because I'm not in the middle of this," Aidan replied, tapping the _Prophet_ again. "I'm away from everything that makes his life so crazy. And I sort of…have a way of making people calm down." Seeing Maria and Joe's faces, he sighed. "This is going to take a while to explain properly."

"Go on," Joe prompted.

It took hours. Aidan found himself having to talk about much more than he had originally intended, and Joe kept interrupting to ask questions. Maria spent most of the time staring at him in a mixture of disbelief and dread, as if everything he was describing was suddenly going to come trooping through the room.

"So," Joe said at one point, "all the people who have been coming by, Harry's friends, they're all—"

"Wizards and witches, yeah," Aidan nodded. "And so are Remus and Tonks, and pretty much everyone who's showed up here uninvited over the last couple weeks."

"But if Remus is one, wouldn't that make you…?" Joe let the question hang in the air, unfinished, with the tone of someone who wasn't sure he liked the connections he was making.

"Not in the traditional sense," Aidan replied slowly. This was the part he had been most worried about. The existence of his Healer powers was either going to come as a relief or a shock to his parents. On the one hand, it clarified a lot about the calm nature that had caused them so much concern over the years, but on the other, it was something completely unfamiliar to them, part of a world far removed from the one they had raised him to live in.

Not surprisingly, Maria was the one to react with a gasp of alarm, while Joe sat for a moment with his eyebrows drawn together. The fact that neither of them questioned the validity of what Aidan was saying told him what he had been suspecting: they had already an idea that something unusual was going on, but had refused to fully acknowledge it until now.

When Aidan finally finished speaking, he sat back, watching his parents. He knew that it would take a while for them to process everything he had just told them, and he didn't expect them to understand much of it. He was just about to get up and leave them to it when Joe spoke.

"What are you going to do about this Healer business?" he asked slowly.

"What do you mean?" Aidan answered with another question.

"I mean, you're not going to…drop out of university or anything?" said Joe, looking concerned. Aidan nearly laughed. He'd been momentarily worried that his fears had been right and Joe thought there was something wrong with him.

"No, of course not. I have a life here, and I'm not about to turn my back on that," he replied.

"Good," Joe said with a nod. And that, for the moment, was that.

* * *

In the morning, Harry announced that he was ready to go to Ollivander's for a new wand. Since it was the first time in two weeks that he had expressed interest in anything relating to the wizarding world, Aidan didn't argue, and the two of them set off for Diagon Alley after breakfast. 

The place had undergone a dramatic change since Aidan's last visit. The end of the street nearest to the Leaky Cauldron had been restored so well that it looked as though the battle had never happened. People were still clearing rubble out of the a couple of shops down at the far end, but the overall mood was much more cheerful than it had been the previous week.

One of the most prominent new features was a large sign outside the building that housed Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. In tall, flashing letters, it proclaimed: "Moving Sale! All Exploding Items Must Go!" Harry laughed when he saw it.

"I guess Fred and George got their hands on Zonko's place," he remarked.

"That could very easily be a disaster," Aidan said, chuckling.

"It's going to make Hogsmede more interesting, that's for sure," said Harry.

Ollivander's shop was at the far end of Diagon Alley, and it looked rather cleaner and better kept than the shops around it, as though Ollivander had been making a special effort to get back on his feet. Harry stared vaguely at the shop window for a few moments before making a move to go in.

"You want me to come in with you?" Aidan asked.

"No, I think I'll be okay," Harry replied, grinning a little. "It's just a wand."

"All right," said Aidan. "In that case, I think I'll go have a look in Flourish & Blotts."

"I'll meet you there," Harry agreed before disappearing into the dimness of Ollivander's shop.

Aidan took his time going back up the street to the bookstore. His talk with his adoptive parents the previous day had gotten him thinking. He had been considering for a while how best to handle his healing abilities, how to harness what was essentially a wizard's power in Muggle space, and Joe's question had brought him back to the time two years ago when Remus had suggested that he try staying in the wizarding world. At the time, Aidan had thought it impractical, given his general unfamiliarity with magic and the fact that he had no idea what he was doing when it came to healing. But now, as he thought about it with the bustle of wizard commerce going on around him, he had to wonder. Was there something he could do, some way he could balance both parts of his life?

There weren't many people in Flourish & Blotts, just a couple of older witches browsing in the back. The manager caught sight of Aidan as soon as he came in and homed in on him, apparently eager to sell something.

"Can I help you today, sir?" the manager asked, apparently unperturbed by Aidan's entirely Muggle appearance. Aidan decided to take advantage of the offer rather than be put off by the man's brightness.

"I was hoping to find some books on Healers. Instructional ones, if possible."

"Ah, well, you're in luck," the manager replied. He led Aidan over to one of the walls, which were lined from floor to ceiling with shelves stuffed with volumes, some of which seemed to be rustling or making other small noises. He pointed to a shelf just above eye level. "We have Hornblower's _Treatise on Healing Methods_, Lockhart's _Dealing with Healing_—not very informative, I'm afraid, but quite popular—Amethyst's _How and Why of Healing Magic_, and—and this very special, sir, very rare, it's exceptionally hard to get—Didactylos's _The Art of Medicine_. The latter leans a bit to the Muggle side of things, but it's an excellent read."

Aidan's gaze passed over the spine of each book in turn during this rather disjointed sales pitch, but what really caught his eye was the volume at the end of the row.

"What about that one?" he asked, pointing to it. The manager looked where he was pointing and became suddenly flustered.

"Oh dear, I don't know how that got up there," he stammered, taking out his wand and levitating the book down from the shelf with one deft flick. "I haven't sold this sort of thing in decades…"

"How much?" Aidan asked, though he knew that all he had on him was Muggle money.

"I'm afraid I can't sell it, sir; the Ministry wouldn't look kindly on this type of—" He broke off and looked at Aidan as if seeing him for the first time. "I'm sorry, sir, don't I know you?"

"I was here last week, helping clean up," Aidan said, figuring there was no harm in answering since the man's tone carried curiosity rather than suspicion.

"Of course!" the manager exclaimed. "You're the Winterton boy!"

This caught Aidan by surprise. "Sorry?"

"You _are _Aidan Winterton, are you not?" the manager asked. When Aidan nodded, he broke into a wide smile. "I thought so. There aren't many fitting your description who pass through Diagon Alley."

"I'm a bit confused," Aidan admitted. "How do you know my name?"

"Mr. Ollivander has been speaking quite highly of you since your visit last week," the manager replied. "He says that talking to you was a singularly interesting experience. He thinks you have great power."

For a moment, Aidan didn't know what to say. He was so rarely recognized as anything other than a relation of Harry's that it struck him dumb to discover he had suddenly developed a separate identity.

"That's nice of him to say," he managed finally. "But I think he must be exaggerating bit…"

"Ollivander is a wandmaker, my boy. He knows power when he sees it. Here," the manager added, handing the previously taboo book to Aidan. "My compliments."

Aidan looked down at the book; a thick, heavy, leather bound volume with the title _Healing Without Wands: The Traditional Guide to Wizard Medicine_ embossed in gold leaf on the front. He could only imagine how much it would normally have cost.

"I can't just take this," he said weakly. The manager shook his head.

"Who else would I sell it to? Most of my customers are eager young schoolchildren who may never encounter wandless magic in their lives. It caught your attention for a reason. Put it to good use. Just make sure you keep it away from the prying eyes of the Ministry, eh? They're not keen on this particular variety of magic."

"Even though it's traditional?" Aidan asked with the hint of a smile.

"These are modern times," the manager replied. "There are some traditions that are not so easily preserved."

"Well, thank you. I'll keep that in mind."

Harry looked around in surprise when Aidan entered the dusky gloom of Ollivander's about ten minutes later.

"I thought we were meeting at Flourish & Blotts?" he asked, raising his eyebrows. Aidan chuckled.

"Something came up. Where's Ollivander?"

As if in response, Ollivander emerged from around the side of a shelf, carrying a long, slim box.

"This ought to do just fine, Mr. Potter," he said, handing the box to Harry. He caught sight of Aidan and smiled. "Ah, Mr. Winterton! Wonderful to see you again. I can't thank you enough for the help you gave me with the shop last week. Is there anything I can do for you, anything at all?"

"Have you been telling stories about me, Mr. Ollivander?" was Aidan's reply.

Ollivander laughed. "Oh dear, someone else has been talking, I see. Foolish of me to think that they wouldn't. You are somewhat of a curiosity, Mr. Winterton. Such power, unlike anything I've seen."

"His dad thinks he's a Healer," Harry said from the corner, where he was conjuring bubbles from the end of the wand that Ollivander had given him.

"Really?" Ollivander's eyes widened. "Fascinating."

"Look, I know I'm not the only Squib ever to have shown some kind of power," Aidan said. "It can't be _that _unique."

"Perhaps not, but how are we to know?" Ollivander replied. "If there are other Squibs out there with power at this moment, I know of none who are utilizing it. The possibility of such a thing is far from common knowledge. But you are aware of what you have, and we here in Diagon Alley were lucky enough to encounter it last week."

"I didn't know it was so obvious," said Aidan.

"When the presence of one person for so short a time does as much for the mood of a place as yours did here, there is no doubt that something extraordinary has happened," Ollivander said.

"Sounds like you've become quite a phenomenon," Harry said, appearing at Aidan's elbow and grinning at him. To Ollivander, he said, "The wand's perfect. How much?"

"Free of charge, Mr. Potter, free of charge," Ollivander replied with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Ridding the wizarding world of the greatest evil of our age is worth far more than the price of a wand. And as for you, Mr. Winterton—"

"Aidan, please," said Aidan.

"Aidan, then. You have a talent, Aidan. Use it."

"How about that?" Harry said once they had left Ollivander's and were heading back toward the Leaky Caldron. "Someone else is famous for a change."

Aidan laughed. "A couple people thanked me for helping them. I wouldn't call that fame."

"You are annoyingly modest sometimes!" Harry exclaimed. "Did you even hear what Ollivander said? The wizarding world isn't full of Squibs with powers. Most people thinking being a Squib means having _no_ power. You're the only person I know who can take something so unusual in stride."

"If I spent my time freaking out about it, I wouldn't be able to think straight enough to decide what to do," Aidan replied. Harry looked at him curiously.

"What _are _you going to do?"

"Well, I told Mum and Dad that I'm not going to abandon my Muggle life, and I'm not," Aidan said. "But I think I ought to start paying more attention to my part in the wizarding world. If this Healer power is strong enough to calm an entire street's residents in one day, I'd better learn how to control it a bit better."

Harry grinned. "Brilliant."

* * *

_Dad, _(Adian wrote)

_I've come into possession of a book on wandless healing magic. It's interesting and very thorough, but I don't really understand all of it. Any recommendations on where I could go to get a little help?_

_ - Aidan_

_Dear Aidan,_

_Have you tried St. Mungo's? There is wandless healing in practice there, though it's not publicized. Things are beginning to calm down a bit, and I'm sure there's someone who would be willing to talk to you._

_ - Remus  
_

* * *

It was midweek when Harry accompanied Aidan to St. Mungo's. Aidan wasn't particularly keen on returning to the bustle of confused emotions, but his newfound resolve to master his healing skills overrode his trepidation. Harry, on the other hand, began to have second thoughts as soon as they walked in the door. 

"Remind me again why I'm visiting Draco?" he said. Aidan shrugged.

"It was your idea. You said something about sympathy, putting aside prejudices, and being in the same boat. Rather mature of you, I thought."

"I just hope nobody finds us. I'd rather not have to answer questions about why I'm offering sympathy to the son of a Death Eater."

"If you mean reporters, I don't think anyone will," Aidan replied. "But if they do, just tell them the truth: that you both lost a lot, and people change."

They reached the nurse's station in the long-term residents' ward, and Harry approached it tentatively.

"I'm here to visit Draco Malfoy."

The nurse on duty looked up in surprise, her shock deepening when she saw Harry.

"Of course, Mr. Potter. Right this way," she said, getting up and directing Harry to a hall at the left of where she had been sitting. As Harry followed her, Aidan could hear her voice fading away down the hall: "It's just a bit of a surprise, is all. Poor thing hasn't had any visitors…"

He hesitated for a moment, wondering if he should join them, but eventually decided that Harry could handle it. Besides, he had come to St. Mungo's for a different reason. And so, while Harry was sitting at the bedside of an unresponsive Draco, Aidan was busy tracking down someone who could tell him more about how to safely utilize the power of wandless healing.

His mood could not have differed more from Harry's when the two of them met up again several hours later. An excitement unlike any that Aidan had ever felt was bubbling in his chest, and he had trouble controlling it even when he saw the downcast look on Harry's face.

"How'd it go?" he asked. Harry sighed.

"He just…stared at the wall the whole time," he said. "Barely moved, barely even blinked. I'm not sure he even knew I was there. I mean, we were never friends, but…"

"It's tough to see anyone like that," Aidan nodded.

"Yeah," Harry agreed, frowning. "Anyway, what'd you find out? Tell me, cheer me up."

Aidan tried not to grin too much as he answered. "Well, there's Healer training available, and not just for people who've graduated Hogwarts. It seems like there's a real underground element to the whole thing, people who want to keep the old ways alive There are apprenticeships, too, but you need a lot of training first."

"But will they train you?" Harry asked. "I mean, if you want to?"

"The Healer I talked to said that, if I can show them what I can do, they can find a place for me," Aidan replied. "I think I'm going to do it. I'll have to balance it with university, but it'll be worth it."

"How are you going to explain that to your parents?" Harry wanted to know.

"I could always tell them I'm going to be a witch doctor," Aidan joked.

Harry laughed. "A wizard doctor."

"A Squib doctor, even."

"What are you going to do if you make history?" Harry asked as they headed out to where Aidan had parked.

"I really doubt that will end up happening," Aidan replied. "But if it does, I can always ask you for advice. You're the expert on being famous, after all."

"Right. Make sure you get defensive at the drop of a hat," Harry instructed. "And shout at people a lot. Oh, and don't forget to develop a stunning smile like Gilderoy Lockhart."

"Speaking of, I'm surprised he wasn't handing out those photos of himself today," Aidan remarked, starting the car.

"He must sleep _sometimes_," said Harry.

They drove in silence for a while. Then Aidan asked,

"So are you doing all right?"

"Me?" Harry seemed surprised. "Yeah, I'm okay. I think I'm finally realizing that things aren't going to go back to normal. Or, at least, that 'normal' is going to be different."

Aidan nodded. "That's good."

"I still miss Ron, though."

"Of course you do. I'd be worried if you didn't."

"The funeral was bizarre. You wouldn't believe the size of the extended Weasley family," Harry put his chin in his hand and looked out the window. "All those people crying. I didn't really know what to make of it."

"A microcosm of the war," Aidan said, half to himself.

"Probably. Look at Draco. Heck, even Sirius. I don't think the first war ever ended, for him."

"War has a way of lingering," Aidan said. "I think the way people deal with it determines how long it does, though."

"Like learning to heal?" Harry said with half a smile. Aidan laughed.

"Yeah, like that. And just generally moving on."

"I'm ready for that," said Harry.

"Any idea of what you're going to do now?" Aidan asked.

"Not a clue," Harry laughed. "I guess I'll have to talk to some of the _Prophet_ reporters eventually; I can't hide from them forever. But once that's done, I think I'll do something that doesn't scream 'Boy Who Lived'. Something more subtle where people aren't going to expect me to play the hero."

"You're not going to become a hermit or anything, are you?" Aidan teased.

"It's a tempting idea, but no. I think," Harry paused, hesitating. "I think…I'd like to try to make things work with Ginny, now that we don't have Voldemort to worry about."

Aidan grinned. "That's a good idea."

"You think so?" Harry asked, surprised.

"Sure. You like her, I'm assuming she still likes you. It's a nice thing, it's a normal thing, and you deserve both of those."

Harry grinned, as well. "Well then. I just have to hope that Mrs. Weasley feels the same way. She's very protective, you know."

"I gathered," Aidan chuckled.

"I just want to take everything slow," Harry said. "I've been going and going for so long with so much hanging over my head…we all have. I almost don't care what happens as long as I can be relaxed about it for a while."

"Sounds like a plan," said Aidan. "We can both see where life takes us. Which reminds me, are you staying for the rest of the summer? I'd just assumed you would."

"Sure," Harry replied. "I think I'll be going down to Diagon Alley and Hogsmede a little more, see if they still need help with anything, but I'd love to stay."

"Good. We'll have to have Hermione and Neville over more, of course."

"Of course."

"Hey Harry?"

"Yeah?" Harry asked, raising his eyebrows.

"I'm glad you're staying. I don't think I could do this Healer thing on my own with my parents looking over my shoulder."

Harry grinned. "Happy to help."

* * *

It didn't really matter to Aidan what Maria and Joe thought about his decision to forge his own path in the wizarding world. Of course he wanted them to approve, but somehow he knew that they would never fully understand no matter how much he tried to explain. So instead of driving himself crazy trying to clarify the details, he simply told them that he would be adding some extra studies to what he was already doing at university and would see where that took him.

Maria, as usual, looked wary when Aidan relayed this, but Joe seemed pleased with the idea and expressed how proud he was of Aidan for taking such an initiative.

Aidan just smiled to himself. If only they really knew how much his life was about to change.


	9. Epilogue: Christmas Holidays

**Author's Note:** I had the idea to give this story a slice-of-life epilogue before _Deathly Hallows_ came out, but I can't say that some of the events of the book didn't influence me a bit in what I ended up writing.  
Anyhow, here it is. Thanks for sticking with the story all these months, and please review if you've made it this far! I'd like to know what you think of the ending.

* * *

**Epilogue – Christmas Holidays**

The bell over the coffee shop door rang and a group of five young people entered, talking and laughing as they shook the snow from their clothes.

"So what movie are we going to go see?"

"I don't know yet. My dad gets the final say, remember?"

"Seems weird to be taking your dad along."

"Hey, it's his engagement we're celebrating. If I could afford something more elaborate, I'd go with that, but seeing as I'm on a student's budget, a movie and a group meal at an ungodly hour is all I can manage."

"I _did _offer to help."

"You're paying two ways already. For all practical purposes, this is a triple date."

"Which makes you what, the seventh wheel?"

"Maybe," Aidan laughed as the group approached the counter. "Hey, Ainsley."

The barista raised a pierced eyebrow at him and grinned. "Goin' somewhere, kiddo?"

"We're taking my dad and his fiancé out to celebrate their engagement," Aidan replied, mirroring the grin. "They're supposed to be meeting us here…oh! Introductions," he added, suddenly seeming to remember that he was with a group. He pointed to each person in turn as he spoke. "This is my brother, Harry—you probably remember him—and his girlfriend, Ginny. And these are our friends, Hermione and Neville…Neville, stop blushing; you don't have to take the date thing so seriously. And since my dad's not here yet, we might as well get some caffeine while we're waiting."

"Your dad's gonna want to be seen in public with a bunch o' caffeinated teenagers, is he?" Ainsley teased.

"He doesn't have enough excitement in his life," Aidan laughed.

"Whatever you say," chuckled Ainsley. "Now what d'you all want to drink?"

There was a brief moment of confusion while coffee was discussed, and the group ended up putting in an order for one red-eye, two plain coffees, one cappuccino, and a caramel latte. While the others went to find a table, Aidan stayed behind and leaned on the counter as Ainsley made the drinks.

"When do you get off work?" he asked quietly.

"In about half an hour, why?"

"Do you want to come with us?"

Ainsley peered at him over the top of the espresso machine, the ghost of a smile in her eyes. "You askin' me on a date?"

"Yeah," Aidan replied. "I mean, if that bothers you, we can just go as friends, but I'd like it to be date."

Ainsley appeared to think about this. "Your dad won't mind?"

"Of course not."

"Then," she said, sliding the finished red-eye across the counter and grinning, "it's a date."

Over the course of the next half hour, Harry and Neville babbled about the latest Quidditch scores, Aidan and Hermione tried to teach Ginny how to play poker, and all five of them generally enjoyed the atmosphere that a warm coffee shop offered on a cold day. Finally, Remus and Tonks arrived, blown in with a gust of cold air and a whirl of snowflakes.

"Sorry we're late," Remus apologized.

"We got distracted by some of the shops," Tonks explained as she brushed snow out of her hair, which was currently pink with blue streaks.

"Engagement ring not enough of a Christmas present for you?" Aidan teased.

"Yeah, come on, let's see it!" Ginny and Hermione exclaimed. Remus looked a bit embarrassed as Tonks showed off the modest ring, but there was a definite glow of happiness in both their faces.

"Is this the happy couple, then?" asked Ainsley, coming up to the table with her coat over her arm. Aidan laughed again.

"It is. My dad, Remus, and his fiancé, Tonks." To Tonks and Remus, he said, "This is Ainsley. You remember her; she's a barista here. I invited her to come with us."

"And you accepted, I hope!" Tonks exclaimed.

"Wouldn't miss it," Ainsley replied. "I've never seen an engagement celebrated like this."

"Well, admittedly, my mum already had a bit of a bash for them over Christmas," Ginny said.

"But we decided neither of them get out enough," Aidan added.

"None of us do, really," said Neville.

"So here we are," Hermione finished.

"Brilliant," Ainsley grinned. "And—Tonks, is it? Who does your hair?"

Tonks smiled a private smile. "I do my own, actually."

"Ha, I envy you," said Ainsley. "I've got to go have mine done again soon."

"What color this time?" Aidan asked her, noting the fading red streaks in hair that was, for the moment, black.

"Well," Ainsley eyed Tonks' hair thoughtfully. "I'm not sure I could pull off pink. But the blue's givin' me ideas." Tonks giggled.

"So are we going or what?" asked Harry.

"Right," Aidan agreed. "Just one thing: what movie _are _we going to go see?"

"Something with action," said Ginny and Harry at the same time.

"Romance," Tonks threw in.

"Something remotely intelligent," Hermione added hopefully, causing Remus to chuckle.

"Am I actually going to understand this movie thing when we get there?" asked Neville.

"If we go see something that actually makes sense," Hermione replied, pushing the point.

"I don't know about anyone else, but I fancy somethin' with a bit o' fantasy," said Ainsley. Aidan looked at her in surprised.

"I didn't know you liked fantasy."

"You ask a girl on a date and ya don't even know what kind o' movies she likes!" Ainsley exclaimed, laughing. "But seein' as it's not my choice, I won't complain."

"Well, what'll it be, Dad?" Aidan said to Remus. Remus shrugged, and there was a hint of amusement in his eyes.

"Let's see about that fantasy," he said.

"With romance!" Tonks insisted.

"With romance, right," Remus chuckled.

And so they trooped out into the snowy night, three wizards, three witches, one Muggle, and one Squib with powers. If Aidan had been bothering to look, he would have seen the cloud of bright, happy emotions surrounding them, much more clearly and sharply than he had been able to before he started his Healer training. But as he and Ainsley were trailing at the back of the group, heads together, talking low about things that were very, very Muggle, it went unnoticed.

For the moment, anyway.

THE END


End file.
